Brown and Blue
by rainbowsXunicorns
Summary: Beatrice Prior and her family move to Chicago, just in time for Beatrice and Caleb to start a new school. Beatrice must go through the trials of high school with the help of her new friends, Christina, Will, and Al. Modern day/high school AU
1. First Day

**Author's note: Hi! I'm Allison and this is my first story for Divergent. This was a prompt requested by my best friend Elizabeth. I do not intend to write FourTris, so if that's what you're looking for I'm sorry to say that is not what this story is about. I hope you like it!**

Chapter One

There are barely any clouds in the sky when I walk to my new school this morning with my brother. My family and I just moved here from Milwaukee for my father's job. Chicago is certainly different, but I see bits of home here and there. Like the houses we pass on our way to school.

My brother, Caleb, and I cross the street so we're facing our new high school. Yay. I just love school. Caleb genuinely likes it and seems annoyed by my sarcastic comments. Okay, school isn't terrible, but I'd rather spend my time doing something else.

The building is brick, like most schools, and stares at me with a menacing face. This year will either be somewhat decent or absolute hell. It's always hard being the new kids when everyone has known each other for so long.

Caleb and I walk through the wide doors to see large groups of like people clumping in the hallway. There are the jocks and the nerds and the loud, happy ones who are laughing and singing. There are even kids loudly debating some topic I try to drown out as I follow Caleb to the office.

Inside the office the noise in the halls turns into chatter behind the door separating us. A woman sits behind a plain and organized desk. She is typing madly and doesn't even look up when we walk in, yet she is observant enough to notice us.

"How may I help you?" she asks, taking a second to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Caleb nervously clears his throat and says, "We're new here and we need our schedules."

"What are your names?" she asks monotonously.

"Caleb and Beatrice Prior."

The receptionist stands from her leather swivel chair and walks a few feet behind her to a filing cabinet and pulls out two slips of paper. She hands them to Caleb who thanks her and passes mine to me.

"Do we have any classes together?" I ask. I look over Caleb's shoulder and scan his list of classes. Unfortunately I will be alone in all my classes.

I give him a disappointed look but he ignores it. The warning bell rings a few seconds later and Caleb hurries into the hall.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

I don't get a chance to answer. He's swept away in the sea of colors and is too far down the stream for me to reach him. My first class is in the opposite direction anyway. I shuffle down the hall until I find room 144.

It's a rather small room with desks facing the blackboard in rows of five. Written on it in white chalk is a large seating chart. Our first names are assigned to a seat. I sit directly in the last seat in the third row, the one closest to the window. It looks like I am next to a girl named Christina. She's already sitting in her seat when I arrive. She's talking to the boy in front of her.

Awkwardly I shuffle through the rows and columns of desks, half of which are occupied. I set my books on my desk and wait for class to start.

"Is she excited to be back?" Christina asks.

"Have you met my sister?" the boy replies. "Cara is even more excited than me." Christina laughs.

I try not to listen in to their conversation because my mother always told me it is rude to eavesdrop, but class hasn't started and there's nothing else for me to do. Christina and Will, apparently-I finally broke down and looked at the board for the boy's name-continue talking about his sister Cara, who is a senior this year. Apparently Christina's sister, Rose, has one more year before she starts high school.

It feels like a decade later when the bell rings and class officially begins.

"Good morning," our teacher says. She stands from her desk and walks to the blackboard and stands beside it. "My name is Ms. Matthews. Welcome to history." The class is silent. Even Christina who seems to be very chatty now sits quietly.

Ms. Matthews takes roll and it seems a majority of the class is already here. There are just a few boys that aren't. Ms. Matthews doesn't appear to be surprised.

A few minutes into class I hear the door open and a young man with dark hair and light green eyes makes his way into the room. He's smiling.

Ms. Matthews remains focused on what she's writing on the board. Without glancing up for a second she says, "Thank you for joining us, Mr. Hayes. Do I need to remind you that it is the first day of school? It will do you well to not be late." Her words are spoken with malice seeping out. She is obviously someone not to get on their bad side. Mr. Hayes does not respond. He sits quietly in his chair, but the creepy spine chilling smile he wears lingers.

I watch as the hands tick by on the clock. When the bell rings, I gather my things and stuff them in my backpack. I get up to go to English when my feet catch on something and I stumble to regain my balance.

"Watch where you're going," an angry voice says. I mumble an apology and look up. It's Mr. Hayes, I see.

"Leave her alone Peter." I glance behind me for a second and Christina has already transitioned from laughing with Will to glowering at Peter.

"Make me," is his reply.

"No fighting in my classroom," Ms. Matthews mutters. "At least go outside."

I hurry out of the classroom in case Christina decides to punch Peter.

"You okay?" Christina says as her and Will walk beside me. "Peter's a jerk, try not to let him get to you."

I nod and say, "Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm Christina! This is my boyfriend Will," she tells me. I don't bother telling her I already knew that. "You're new, aren't you!"

"Yes," I mumble. "I'm Beatrice."

Christina smiles and asks me what my other classes are.

"Well we don't have English together, but we have biology!" I can't tell if Christina is a generally nice person or just very enthusiastic. I'll go with nice since she stuck up for me.

Christina and Will talk to me all the way across the school until Christina turns left to go to health. Will and I walk to English together.

"You're welcome to sit with us at lunch." I smile shyly, letting my hair fall creating a wall between us so he can't see my blush.

"Thank you."

We walk into the room silently. There is no seating chart, so we're allowed to sit wherever we want for now. I follow Will to the back of the class. I throw him a grateful half smile when I can. He doesn't seem like the type of person who likes to sit in the back, but I do prefer it. I become less noticeable that way.

The bell rings signaling the start of class. Our teacher, a man who has dark blue eyes and is an average height, smiles at us pleasantly. He appears more amicable than Ms. Matthews, yet no one speaks when he stands in front of the class.

"Welcome to English," he starts. "My name is Mr. Eaton."

When Mr. Eaton starts telling us about what we'll be doing over the year, Will leans across his desk to whisper to me, while keeping his eyes on our teacher.

"If the rumors are true, you best stay away from Mr. Eaton."

"Why?" I whisper back. A thousand reasons why fly through my mind, trying to find the right one. "What rumor?"

"The rumor that he mistreated his son." I turn to look at him. Will glances at me briefly but doesn't look away from Mr. Eaton for more than two seconds.

"What?" I try to keep my voice low. Will shushes me.

"Beatrice?" I jump in my seat. At first I think Mr. Eaton is going to yell at me and Will for talking, but he's really taking roll.

"Here," I say meekly. I try to smile but I can't smile at the image of him beating anyone. And that thought distracts me for the rest of the period. Every time I catch myself thinking about it, I try to shake it off. The bell is what snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Do you want to sit with us at lunch? You could get to know a few other people." While his offer does sound enticing, I politely decline. I think I'll attempt to find Caleb.

"All right, but if you change your mind we eat in the cafeteria." I smile and nod and stop in the hall while Will keeps walking. I pull out my phone and text my brother.

Do you want to eat lunch with me?

It takes him a few minutes to reply.

Oh um, I was going to eat with one of my friends.

You made friends already? That's great

Did you?

Uh yeah. Don't worry I'll eat with them.

I wait a little while longer, but Caleb doesn't reply. I toss my phone into my bag and walk into the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is a large room with tables full of kids. It looks like every student in the school eats lunch at the same time. Somehow I manage to spot Will and Christina. Christina licks salad dressing off her lip when she sees me. She waves me over excitedly. I walk over nervously.

"Guys," Christina says. "This is Beatrice. She's new here." Everyone looks at me with a look that tells me they're excited to have new blood.

"This is," Will starts, "Uriah, Marlene, Lynn, and Al." Marlene and Uriah were the ones that greet me first.

"Where are you from?" Marlene asks.

"I'm from Milwaukee," I reply.

"That's not far from here," Uriah says. "Do you have siblings?" I nod.

"I have an older brother." I guess Caleb isn't that much older than me. He's not quite a year older, but we're not twins.

"Does he go to school here?" Marlene wonders. I nod.

"I have an older brother too," Uriah adds. "Lynn has an older sister, and so does Will." I nod again. I tend to do that when I don't know what to do or say in response.

"How's your first day so far?" Al asks quietly.

"I guess the first day of school here is the same as it is everywhere. You sit and listen to teachers talk for ninety minutes and try not to fall asleep." Christina chokes on a crouton. Will, Al, Marlene, and Uriah smile. Lynn remains unaffected. I get the feeling she doesn't like me.

For the rest of lunch, I listen to the others talk and answer whatever questions they have about my past school. I'm not an interesting person, but I have to be interesting enough.

After lunch ends, Marlene and I walk to math. She seems to be an okay person. I like her. She's very friendly, that's for sure. Maybe a little too loud, but she's nice.

In math not only do we get the course syllabus, but we actually have to do work. The other classes didn't make us do work. And to make the class harder for me than math already is, Mr. Kang has a seating chart made out. I am across the room from Marlene, but I have no problem hearing her. Instead I sit next to a really quiet girl named Myra and semi quiet girl, Jamie.

After the hell class-as I now call it-ends, Marlene points me on the direction of the biology classroom. I thank her and walk in that direction.

Christina sits on the table playing on her phone when I walk in. When she sees me, she sets it down and smiles.

"Are you ready for a really boring class?" I chuckle and sit in the unoccupied chair next to her. As the bell rings, she takes her seat in the chair.

Again, all we do is go over the course syllabus and get permission slips handed out. The first day of school is always boring. Christina was right.

At the end of the day, I gather my stuff and follow Christina out of class.

"Hey," I say, catching her attention, "I'll see you tomorrow." She smiles and says goodbye. I walk downstairs to the main floor and out the front doors. I wait until I see Caleb and then we walk home together.

"How was your day?" I ask. He turns to me and tells me everything from start to finish. I have never heard words spill out of his mouth so fast.

"So who's the friend you had lunch with?"

"Oh, his name is Rick. He's in my math class." After an awkward silence Caleb asks me how my day was.

"Fine," I say. "My classes seem fine. I met some nice people."

"That's good."

The rest of our walk is fairly quiet. The house is just as quiet, which is pretty usual. Mom and Dad don't get off work until after we've come back from school.

I take a turn into the kitchen to grab a snack before it's time to make dinner. Caleb sits down at the kitchen table and begins reviewing his syllabuses and then takes out a book and starts reading.

That's just one difference between us, I guess. Caleb always liked school. I have always tolerated it.


	2. Creative Writing and Psychology

Chapter Two

My alarm buzzes and I meekly reach over to hit the snooze button. Instead I knock it off the table. I am too tired to turn it off now. I pull the blankets over my head and curl into a ball on my side. If I fall back asleep will I be forced to go to school?

When my alarm got to be annoying enough, I reached over the side of my bed to blindly pick it up. I hit the snooze button and set it on the bedside.

After the alarm goes off five minutes later, I decide to get up. I have an hour and a half before school starts. I lazily get out of bed and walk to my closet. I pull out a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I know it's too hot for jeans, but I don't like to show more skin than I have to.

I grab a towel from the linen closet and head sleepily in the direction of the bathroom. I hang my towel on the back of the door and press the lock before I get undressed. I twist the knob in the shower to turn the water on. I wait until the cool water turns warmer to step into the shower.

I try not to take long. I rinse my hair and wash it thoroughly before I twist the knob to the off setting. It usually takes me fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed.

When I'm all through on the bathroom, I walk downstairs and make a bowl of cereal for myself. Mom and Dad are already up and are getting ready to go to work.

"Good morning, Beatrice," Mom says. I smile up at her and repeat her greeting. I look back down at my breakfast. I briefly glance at the clock and then back at my cereal. Suddenly breakfast doesn't sound so appetizing. I take my bowl to the sink and rinse it out. As I place it in the dishwasher, Caleb comes down the stairs. He's reading something. It is a very thick novel that looks like it would take me a month to read and him a week.

"Good morning, Caleb," Mom says. He mumbles a 'good morning' in return as he grabs a granola bar and nibbles on it while he reads.

Mom and Dad leave at seven thirty for work. They pleasantly wish us a good day at school. Caleb and I make sure to be out of the house not ten minutes later.

It's a silent walk to school. Caleb looks straight ahead the whole time. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, but his focus does not budge. I sigh. I wonder if I did something wrong or if he's just in a quiet mood.

We walk through the doors and silently part ways to different classes. At least he wishes me a good day as well. I do the same for him and walk stiffly to Creative Writing. This sounds like an introverted class. I should be good at this.

The classroom is on the second floor. It is in between the bathroom and the choir room. A swell of music hits me as I walk past it. A combination of a piano and a few sopranos singing.

In the class I see a range of students. It is obviously in an elective class. I take a seat at the emptiest table there is.

I glance around the room to see the other students, see if I might recognize anyone. I don't. At one table sits a quiet boy in between two of his talkative friends. His familiar blue eyes stare intently at the desk he is sitting at.

A chair squeaks as it pulls out next to mine. I look up and see Al smiling.

"How are you?" he asks nervously.

"Fine," I say. "How are you?" He smiles in return and says he's well. We sit and talk for a few minutes until the final bell rings.

"Hello!" a woman says. "How is everyone today? Welcome to creative writing! I'm Ms. Reyes."

Ms. Reyes, whom I notice has a lisp, takes the first few minutes of the class to tell us about what we'll be doing for the year. She seems to be a very happy person. Very optimistic and cheerful. I will either love her or want to murder someone next week.

"Why don't we go around the room..." _Please don't make me._ "...And say our names and something interesting about us. How about..." _How about no?_ "I'll make it easy. Just tell us your name and what your favorite color is. I'll start. I'm Ms. Reyes and my favorite color is red."

The class began stating their names and favorite colors shyly. It seems like we're an introverted group. Most writers are I guess.

"My name is Zeke," a boy says. "And my favorite color is green." Zeke elbows his mysterious friend when he doesn't speak up.

"My name is Tobias." His voice is surprisingly strong. He doesn't sound shy like the others. "My favorite color is black."

"My name is Shauna and my favorite color is red."

The chatter goes around the room until it stops at my table.

"My name is Al and my favorite color is blue." He looks to me when he's done. I notice that he has a slight blush to his cheeks. He must really hate public speaking. We have a lot in common.

I clear my throat nervously. "I'm Beatrice," I whisper. "And I don't know what my favorite color is. I like a lot of different colors." I lean back in my chair. A few eyes linger on my face when I finish. A few kids are after me, but I don't pay attention to them.

"Great," Ms. Reyes says. "Now take out a piece of paper and title it 'Entry One _._ ' If you don't have one, I have extra sheets up here. You will need a notebook for this class. Spiral, composition, any type is fine."

On our piece of paper titled Entry One, we are told to start writing anything. At random intervals Ms. Reyes will shout out a word and we have to incorporate it into the story. A word bomb, she called it. She told us to underline the words she calls out.

I let my hand move across the page, letting the story write itself.

 _Haphazardly_ _I ran down the broken up street. I had to get there in time. I felt as if the situation would crumble if I didn't make it in time. I had to get to grandma's for her fresh_ _popcorn_ _balls. They are delicious and I could eat twenty of them if they wouldn't pull my teeth out. Crossing the street, I scurried past a red_ _mustang_ _parked by a fire hydrant. Should I call to have it towed? I turned on my phone to realize I got a text from my friends. My inbox was littered with questions like "do you want to come over for a_ _campfire_ _?" I ignore them all for now when I see the time. The breeze hit me and made me_ _tremor_ _in my jacket. That didn't stop me, but the_ _black ice_ _on the next block did. I stand up and limp the rest of the way to Grandma's._

Ms. Reyes calls time. I drop my pencil on the desk. When the last few people have finished scribbling words down, Our teacher tells us to share our story with someone near us. Al and I look at each other with a small halfhearted smile.

"You can go first," Al says. I blink a few times while looking down at whatever the hell it is I wrote.

"It's not very good," I tell him. He gives me a half smile and shrugs. I blink again and clear my throat unnecessarily. I read my terrible story to him. When I'm done I find myself not looking up. Usually reading my work in front of others back in Milwaukee never ended well. Kids either snickered or had stopped paying attention halfway through. I didn't mind the second one as much.

"I like it," he says. "I think it's very creative." His unexpected compliment makes me shift my gaze back up to him.

I want to tell him that I have written better, but I think better of it and thank him.

"Uh... Mine isn't that good."

"I'm sure it's great." I was never good at reassuring people. Neither Caleb nor I inherited that from Mom.

Al coughs before he begins reading what he wrote.

"Haphazardly I hurry down the path. The dirt floor of the forest is littered with dead tree limbs and rocks the size of baseballs. The only thing that keeps me going is the pungent smell of burnt popcorn. Rachel was never good at cooking, even such simple things like popcorn. When I reach her, she's sitting on a log with her hands shoved into her shallow pockets.

'About time you got here,' she says. 'I thought I heard something.'

'What did you hear?' I ask.

'It sounded like... I don't know. Like a mustang.'

'The car?' Her wide eyes narrow into a look of disapproval.

'No, the horse.' I roll my eyes. How does she even know what a mustang sounds like compared to other cars?

I walk behind her to gather the firewood she left out. I toss it into the campfire for extra warmth. It _is_ rather chilly outside. I feel a tremor run up my spine. It is so cold out I think if there was any water it would freeze into a pond of black ice."

Al does not look up from his paper when he finishes. At least I think he is finished. He has not said anything to indicate one way or the other that he is.

"That was really good," I say. I know that is what every remotely polite person says, but it was way better than my crappy little story. I don't know if you can even call it that.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"All right class," Ms. Reyes begins. "Who wants to share what they wrote with the rest of us?" The class is silent. I take a second to look over at Al who is still staring at his paper with his hands in his lap. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks up to smile at me and then he sits back in his chair as Zeke reads his story that is about ponies and chocolate cake. He is certainly going to be entertaining to have in class.

"That was very creative, Zeke," Ms. Reyes says. "Anyone else?"

The class is full of murmurs going back and forth between a few students. Finally, Shauna raises her hand. Her word bomb is not nearly as entertaining as Zeke's. Though it was very well-written and flowed elegantly.

"You're not going to read yours?" I shift my gaze over to Al. He is wearing a small smile. I glance from his face to my paper on the desk and back.

"This was awful," I whisper with a joking smile. "I'm sure I can write something better later." His smile grows and he exhales,

"I can't wait to hear that." I roll my eyes playfully.

"What about you?" I say. "Aren't you going to read yours?" He shakes his head.

"I'll read mine when you read yours." I casually lean over to position myself closer to him.

"Is that a challenge?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Do you want it to be?" I don't answer. Do I? There are so many things that could go wrong with this bet. I don't know if it's worth the risk. And how well do I know Al? Not well. He doesn't seem like the type to totally play me and make me read something really personal out loud in front of the class. Besides I'm not much of a 'challenge accepter' anyway.

"Not particularly," I reply.

He shrugs and says, "Okay."

I don't know why, but this surprises me. Most guys are always up for a challenge, no matter how stupid it is. Once in sixth grade one of my guy friends wanted to race me, so we got together at recess and we raced. He beat me, but I wasn't far behind. Then he told me I was "fast for a girl."

"Wait. Okay?"

"Okay." I raise an eyebrow. He smiles again. "If you're not comfortable reading your stuff in front of the class, I totally understand. I'm not gonna make you." I smile in return.

"Al," I say. "You just said the one thing I wish all my old teachers said to me." He throws his head back and laughs. I can't help but laugh either.

We're still trying to hold it together when a girl named Violet finishes her lengthy story.

When the bell rings, we all stand, push in our chairs, and walk out the door into the warm hallway.

"Where are you going now?" I ask.

"Math." I chuckle humorlessly.

"Have fun. I'll see you at lunch?" He smiles again and nods before saying goodbye and walking in the opposite direction.

 _It's nice to have a friend like Al,_ I think.

I walk into sixth period, which is psychology. In this class, our teacher, Ms. Wu, doesn't care where we sit as long as we can see. I set my things down in the end seat in one of the back rows. I wait for the class to start as I watch everyone walk in and take whatever seat they can find. Psychology is a popular class. I'm not really surprised.

No one particularly stands out to me. There is no one in this class that I know. Until the last few people walk in about a minute until the bell is scheduled to ring.

Great, I think. I get to sit through another class with Peter Hayes. Only this time it looks like he has friends.

Wonderful.

The last straggler is a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She kind of resembles me, only she looks prettier. Her golden hair is in a tight bun and she is wearing a plain dress that hangs loosely and scrapes the floor. She has a gray jacket over it. There are no seats left, so she sits to my left. She gives me a smile before the bell rings and Ms. Wu calls the class to order.

"Okay," she starts. "Welcome to psychology. I'm not big on introductions, so here is the course guide for the year." She hands each row a stack of papers and tells the first person to take one and pass it back.

Once we all have a paper, Ms. Wu casually leans against her desk and begins talking about half of the stuff on the front and most of the stuff on the back. We are to get the last page signed and return it by next class.

"You will need to stop by the library and pick up a textbook. We will use it every day in this class. Any questions?"

"Do we have to read it at home?" Peter asks. By the look on Ms. Wu's face, she's trying not to roll her eyes.

"No. I want you to use it as a pillow when you go to sleep to retain information." A few of the students chuckle. "That might be a better strategy for you, Mr. Hayes," Ms. Wu mumbles.

"Besides being an ass," I mutter under my breath, "what did he do wrong to piss off so many teachers?"

"The teachers here are strict," the girl next to me whispers back. "You don't argue with them. You do what they tell you and you won't have a problem." I look over at her. She catches my gaze and turns to look at me. She's wearing the same genuine smile she had on earlier.

"Sorry," she mumbles shyly, looking down at her lap for a moment. I shake my head nonchalantly.

"It's fine. I was curious to know anyway." The girl chuckles once.

"I'm Susan."

"Beatrice," I tell her.

"You're new here, right?" I nod. "Welcome. You know, when you can get past people like Peter, Molly, and Drew, this school isn't so bad." I chuckle too.

"Are they Molly and Drew?" I jerk my chin to the two teens sitting next to Peter the ringleader. Susan nods.

"Molly is the best of the three. She's more of a verbal presence, but I'd still be careful. Last year she got into a fight with another girl... the girl got sent to the hospital." I feel my jaw loosen up.

"How was she not expelled?"

"It wasn't on school grounds." I shake my head slowly. "Sorry," Susan continues. "I probably shouldn't talk about it. I don't like to gossip."

"Oh, sorry," I say. We turn our attention back to the front of the class.

When the bell rings, everyone bursts out of their seats.

"Hey," I say, turning to Susan. "Do you want to have lunch with me and some friends?" Her smile illuminates the almost empty classroom.

"I would love to!" I smile too.

"Great! Let's go."


	3. Gym and Study Hall

Chapter Three

Susan and I walk down to the cafeteria. I learn Susan has an older brother also in our year. His name is Robert. I make a note to myself to ask Caleb if they know each other.

The cafeteria is suddenly crowded, but I see my friends and walk over to the group. Everyone looks up when Susan and I approach the wood table. Christina looks up first and smiles. She glances from me to Susan and back.

"This is Susan," I say. "We're in psychology together." Susan shyly utters a hello to the group.

I take a seat in a chair and leave a space for Susan to sit in between me and Marlene who smiles and introduces everyone at the table.

"So," Christina says. A slight smile graces her lips as she finishes chewing a baby carrot. "I hear you wrote an interesting story today in writing." My eyes flicker to Al who is leaning back in his chair casually.

"I didn't tell her what it was about," he replies. "I just told her that I liked your story." For some reason my cheeks fill with heat from everyone's eyes on my face, just like earlier.

"It wasn't as good as yours." Al looks away for a second. Christina's eyes flit between our faces as she absentmindedly takes Will's hand.

An awkward silence presents itself. Marlene keeps switching her focus from me to Al like she's watching a tennis match. Her mouth has transformed into a playful smirk.

"I never really heard about your sister," I say to Will. "What's she like?"

Will looks pleasantly surprised. He smiles and peers around the room. He turns back to me when he must not see her.

"Her name is Cara, she's a senior this year, she's really smart. I think almost all of her classes are advanced placement."

"That's really impressive," Susan adds.

"Do you have siblings?" Uriah asks her.

"I have a brother, Robert. He's in our grade." Susan answers some questions about her brother and then the focus changes. Everyone starts talking the morning they had until the bell rings.

I quickly check out my schedule to see where I'm going next. Gym. Oh, boy am I going to be sore tomorrow.

"Ooh," Christina says. "Have fun in gym. You have to run a mile outside." I stare at her with a blank expression.

"I feel that," Lynn mutters as she passes by U.S. To throw her garbage away.

"Sweet!" Uriah exclaims. "We have gym together." I smile. At least I have one friend.

"Me too," Al says.

The three of us walk to the gym talking about how running a mile, outside, in seventy six degree weather is not ideal. Uriah complains the least. He seems up for any challenge. I don't mind challenging myself but I don't want to be brought to the nurse because I passed out from heat stroke.

Christina was right and wrong. We have to run outside but our teacher was convinced by another student that we should run a mile and a half. The guy looks like a bodybuilder, so he will have no problem running ten in the hour we have.

"Why?" I say as I drop my bag in the corner of the room near the condensed bleachers. "Why? How is this fair?"

"Life isn't fair Beatrice," Al teases. "And the world is conspiring against you." I jokingly stick my tongue out at him. Al and Uriah laugh and we head outside.

"Who is the big guy?" I ask when we get outside. The three of us start jogging, but we're still in the back of the group.

"That's Eric," Uriah says. "He's a senior."

"What's a senior doing in gym?" I say.

"It's an elective," Uriah says. "He wanted to do this."

"Why would anyone want to do this?" I mutter. My friends laugh and we continue jogging around the perimeter of the school.

We jog until we're so far behind we really should start running to catch up.

"Oh," a voice says. I know it's Peter. I do not bother acknowledging it. "It's the caboose."

"The caboose is important to the train," Uriah shoots back.

"And you're back here," Al says. "Wouldn't that make you a part of the caboose?" I try not to snicker at the stupid look on Peter's face.

He exhales angrily and runs to the front of the crowd again. I stop jogging for moment to give Al a high five.

"That was awesome," I say. Al smiles and the three of us continue to the finish line. Uriah and Al find a few shady shortcuts to take. It takes us past a cluster of kids. We end up reaching the finish line for half of them, much to the surprise of the kids we passed by.

While we wait for the others to finish, we wait in the shade under a large tree. I'll have to bring a water bottle to class next time. I look down at myself for a moment. I am grossly sweaty. The first thing I do when I get home is take a shower.

"That wasn't so bad, right," our teacher says.

I think about muttering a sarcastic comment under my breath, but I am still too winded to attempt it.

"Bring a water bottle to class and don't forget to eat a good lunch before coming to class," he continues.

Our teacher is interesting to say the least. He has to be the only teacher who lets us call him by his first name, Max. Al and Uriah tell me that there is a rumor going around that Max doesn't have a last name. I shake my head and walk to study hall, which is in the library.

I am pleasantly surprised to see Christina. I sit down next to her at a small table.

"Hey," she says. Her eyes light up as I sit down. "How was gym?"

I groan at the last hour and a half of my life. Christina chuckles at my misfortune. I shoot her a glare, but that makes her laugh harder.

"We had to run a mile and a half," I say, annoyance dripping from my words, "because some guy named Eric thought it would be fun. Max had no hesitation to agree."

Christina laughs again and I rest my head on my folded arms.

"Can I nap?" I ask, my words slightly muffled.

"You should get used to that," Chris says. "Eric loves exercise and physical activity. He's been in almost every sport this school has to offer every year."

"That explains his insane biceps." Christina's giggle rings through the room. I lift my head up in time to see the study hall monitor giving us a warning look.

"Football, baseball, tennis, golf..."

"How does he keep up with all these sports?" I ask completely disbelieving he has time for this.

"He'll alternate years, but not all the sports overlap. He can play multiple sports a year." I sigh at the thought of playing a sport. When I was younger, my parents made me play soccer. I hated it. I cried and complained until they gave in.

"Is he going to be my hell?" I say.

"Probably. And to make it worse, he's friends with Peter and Molly and Drew."

I am about to say something when a bell sound echoes in the otherwise quiet room.

"Hello students of Lake View High School," a man's voice says. "Welcome to a new year. I know this year will be great. Remember to put your best foot forward. You earn your grades, so put the effort into the grades you want. Have a good year."

The message ends with the same ring as the message began with.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"Our principal," Christina replies. "He's really strict; you don't want to get on his bad side." I nod absentmindedly.

I pull out my math homework and do the problems I know and guess on the ones I don't. Math was never my strong point. My dad is really smart, maybe I'll ask him for help. I don't think he'll be able to help with psychology, but Mom can.

"So," Christina says, interrupting my train of thought, "what is your brother like?"

Her question catches me off guard.

"Oh, um... He's pretty smart. He's in a lot of A.P. classes. He's tall, brown hair, green eyes. He's a dork."

Christina laughs again.

"He's a dork?"

"Aren't all brothers dorky?" I say with a smile.

"I guess," she says, "but I can't speak from personal experience."

"What's your sister like?"

"Well..." Christina thinks about it for a moment. "I guess she's smart. She's very blunt, about everything. She looks like me. She's kind of annoying." I smirk.

Christina and I go back to working on school stuff. I notice her phone vibrates every few minutes and she'll check her message and giggle about something. She must be texting Will.

I never had a boyfriend in Milwaukee. I remember crushing on a few guys, but I never did anything about it and they never returned my sentiment. As I got older more guys crushed on me, but I never returned their sentiment. They were annoying prepubescent boys who thought they would get me to like them by distracting me from my work and making somewhat offensive comments about something I liked. I vaguely recall Mom telling me that boys mature as they age. I disagree. She also said that I would end up marrying someone older than me because my maturity level transcended the boys' in my grade.

Then again I never really wanted a boyfriend. I have been too focused on school to go on dates. And I'm too broke to buy presents for every week anniversaries that every other couple does.

Oh well. If I find a guy nice enough and mature enough and sweet and funny and loyal enough, maybe I'll find myself a boyfriend. But I'm not the type of girl who can trip and land on a date with anyone I like. My luck doesn't work that way.


	4. The Walk Home

Chapter Four

"You don't have to take a foreign language this year?" Christina asks as the bell rings.

I shove my folder into my bag and stand. I push in my chair.

"I finished my requirements back home." She purses her lips. I smirk.

Christina and I walk through the overly crowded hallways to the front of the school. There are a lot of booths set up with peppy kids throwing pamphlets and fliers in people's faces. A giant banner hanging over the doors leading outside say 'Club Fair' is bold red and white letters.

"I'll see you later," Christina shouts over the noise. I nod.

I wait for Caleb to meet me as Christina walks through the cluster of kids. It must be nice to be tall, there's a better chance kids will see you and move out of your way.

A hand touches my shoulder. I spin on the balls of my feet. Caleb smiles and removes his hand.

"Ready?" I nod.

I hold onto the back of Caleb's backpack so I don't lose him on the way out. Though Caleb is really tall and I wouldn't have a problem finding him.

No one makes an effort to move out of the way. Maybe it's a respect thing. I wouldn't cross Christina in fear she would bite my head off. Caleb and I are the new kids and have proved nothing to them.

Finally finding our way out of the crowd we cross the street. We walk the block in silence. I sigh as we get another street closer to home.

"I feel like I haven't talked to you in days," I say. "How are your classes?"

"Great," Caleb replies. I know Caleb can be taciturn, but now he's distant. He lives school, why won't he talk about it?

"Tell me about your friends."

"Well, Rick is cool. He's in a few of my classes. There are a few others. Nicholas, Kathleen... What about you?"

"There's Christina and Will and Al and Marlene and Uriah. Susan is pretty cool. I don't think Lynn likes me very much."

I turn slightly to see his reaction. His eyebrows are pulled together and his lips are slightly angled down.

"If she doesn't like you, why do you hang out?"

"She's friends with the others. I guess we aren't really friends. We just sit together at lunch." Caleb nods in an understanding.

"What's your favorite class?" he asks.

I smile to myself a little. There's the Caleb I know. Sometimes it takes a while to grab his attention, especially if there's something on his mind.

"I like creative writing," I say. "It sounds like a laid back class."

Caleb chuckles and says, "Not gym? That surprises me, Beatrice. You don't want tight muscles for the rest of the year?" I laugh.

"Well, when you put it that way..." he laughs too. "What's your favorite class?"

He thinks for a few seconds. Running through all the classes and future units and teachers and classmates.

"I really like history."

"Who's your teacher?"

"Ms. Matthews." I think back to her class. It doesn't sound terrible, but I've always found history boring. What's so great about a bunch of dead white guys who screwed up the economy and relations with other countries? History makes me sad. I don't like hearing about slavery and massacres and The Trail of Tears. History depresses me.

And I have Peter Hayes in that class. I groan.

"You don't like Ms. Matthews?" Caleb asks with a tone of utter curiosity and shock.

"I don't have anything against her," I say defensively. "I don't know her well enough to judge her as a teacher. So it's not that I don't like her..." Yet. She may be problematic in the future.

Caleb seems to accept this answer. I make a mental note to never make comments about Ms. Matthews in front of my brother unless they are good.

"I was only groaning because I remembered I have Peter Hayes in my class."

"I know him. He's in my science class."

Is that all you have to say!? What do you think about his character? You didn't say you didn't like him, but you didn't say likes him either. I need to know.

"Is he as insufferable in science as he is in history, psychology, and gym?" Don't betray me.

"He's not bad." You crushed me, Caleb. "Sorry. That's probably not what you wanted to hear, but he's not awful. First impressions aren't everything."

You're right. It's not what I wanted to hear.

I decide to change to subject before I end up giving myself a stroke.

"I've never heard of Nicholas and Kathleen."

"You might not have. They're seniors this year."

"I have some seniors in my classes," I add. "They are entertaining." I remember Zeke and his word bomb.

"Who? Maybe I know them."

"Uh... Zeke, Shauna, Tobias, and Eric." Caleb's eyes narrow at the pretty yellow roses on the corner.

"Tobias Eaton?"

I shrug and respond, "I don't know his last name." But if it is him, then he must be Mr. Eaton's son. I vaguely recall what Will told me yesterday in English.

"If the rumors are true, you best stay away from Mr. Eaton."

"Why? What rumor?"

"The rumor that he mistreated his son."

Poor guy. He can't escape his abusive father at all. If the rumors are true, of course. I try to stay away from rumors and drama as much as possible.

"If the rumors are true..." I start, "Why can't he live with his mom?" I wonder if Caleb knows what I'm talking about. Since he doesn't question me, I'm assuming he does.

"His mom left them."

"How do you know so much about this?" Today was our second day of school. I know Caleb is intuitive, but wow!

"Just like you knew about the rumor," he says with a smile, "I hear things."

I let it go and hope he changes the subject. When he doesn't, I think of something else to ask.

"Do you want to sit with us at lunch tomorrow? You might like my friends." Caleb takes a moment to consider it before he replies.

"I'll think about it. Tell me more about your friends."

"Christina is cool. She's very talkative and friendly. She is sassy. Will is her boyfriend. He's really smart. He's nice. Al is quiet, but he's really nice and funny too. Marlene is talkative as well. She's upbeat, just like Uriah. Lynn is quiet and kind of angry. Susan is sweet. She's optimistic and very friendly." Caleb nods.

"I'll think about it," he says again.

"Oh, I meant to ask you. Do you know Robert Black?"

"I don't think so, why?"

"He's Susan's brother. He's a few months older than her too. I just wanted to see if you knew him."

"I don't, but that's cool. I thought we were the only ones."

The rest of our walk home, another two blocks, is quiet. We don't talk about school or rumors or friends.

We turn up the walkway to the porch. Caleb unlocks the front door. The door swings open and Caleb pockets his keys before stepping inside. I follow close behind and take my shoes off and drop my bag by the door. I shut the door behind me and walk into the kitchen to grab an apple before reading my psychology textbook I got at the end of study hall.

A buzz from my phone draws my attention away from my book. It's an email notification.

 _Dear students of Lake View,_

 _Welcome to a new year! I hope you have a nice year. Remember to put your best foot forward and you shall succeed._

 _We as a staff are looking forward to those of you returning. We also wish to welcome those of you who are new to the school._

 _I look forward to another fantastic year with you._

 _Mr. David Daniels_

 _Principal of Lake View High School_

I ignore the email. It doesn't interest me in any way.

I hear the lock turn on the front door. It is five. Mom and Dad should be back by now.

The door swings open and Mom walks in. She sets her keys on the counter and locks the door after she's stepped inside. She smiles at me and greets me the way she always does. Asking me how my day was, what I did, how I am. Things like that. In turn I ask her the same questions. When Caleb reappears, she asks him.

"Do you like your classes so far?" Mom asks.

"Yeah," I say. Caleb agrees and gets back to his homework.

"Make any new friends?" I nod. Caleb nods too.

"Hey," Mom says, "don't start talking over each other." I crack a smile. I love my mom, she's the greatest.

Ten minutes later, Dad comes home and we repeat what we said to Mom to him. Dad is a bit more curious than Mom, so he presses us for more information.

"Tell me about your friends."

"They're cool," I say. "They're really nice." That is an acceptable answer, so Dad asks Caleb. He responds quickly.

We talk for a while as Dad makes dinner. Mom usually makes breakfast and Caleb and I make lunch.

"Do you like school so far?" Mom says.

"Yeah," I say. And I do. I didn't have many friends in Milwaukee, so this is a nice change. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to history. Not because of Ms. Matthews, but because I can see Will and Christina first thing in the morning.


	5. Troublemakers

**Quick author's note: First off, I'd like to thank you all so much for liking and supporting this story; it means so much to me. And to alfan4343 (love your name by the way!), yes there will be more Al! Unfortunately he is not in very many of Beatrice's classes,** **but I will focus more on their relationship in the chapters they do have classes together, especially writing.**

 **Thanks you guys,**

 **Allison**

Chapter Five

"The Union and the Confederates," the narrator says. "Led by General Grant and-" I look out the window to distract myself from this boring documentary.

The sun shines brightly in my eyes. I glance around the room to see Ms. Matthews reading a book the size of the bible. A few kids are paying attention and others are doodling or texting.

I decide to return my attention to the movie when Christina turns around in her seat and tosses a piece of paper at me. I look at it suspiciously before I glance up at her. She winks and turns to face to screen.

 _Do you like anyone?_

I look up at her with a surprised look, but she doesn't turn to see my reaction.

 _You mean like-like?_

I throw the paper back at her and she reads it. She giggles for a second before covering her mouth with her hand. Luckily Ms. Matthews doesn't look up. Though her laughter catches Will's attention and he turns around.

"Are you antagonizing Beatrice," he whispers, "because that's not nice." I chuckle.

Christina doesn't say anything. Will glimpses at the paper. Upon seeing what she wrote, he rolls his eyes, sighed, and takes the paper from her. Christina reaches for it, but it's out of her grasp. Will tosses it to me when he's done. Christina pouts in her seat.

 _Christina, don't ask her that._

 _Beatrice, you don't have to answer that._

I am grateful for Will's defense. I never thought about it really. Are there any guys here I wouldn't mind dating? I don't know, because I never pondered this question.

I grab my pencil and respond before hand in it over to Christina. She gives me a stern look and she sticks her tongue out at Will. He smirks.

For the next half hour I sort of pay attention to the lame documentary as I write notes back and forth with Will and Christina. Most of it is Will and Christina arguing. Christina shoves the paper under her notebook when Ms. Matthews pauses the video and asks if there is anything we need clarification on before we continue or if anyone has any general questions.

"Yes, Mr. Hayes."

This should be good, I think as I roll my eyes.

"Beatrice, Will, and Christina are distracting me." Christina freezes in her seat and I can see Will tense up. I feel heat rush to my cheeks. I knew Peter was a jackass, but really?

"How are they distracting you?" She says with a stern look. Ms. Matthews crosses her arms impatiently.

"They're passing notes." I let my head fall forward. I don't know if I should punch him in the face or cry. I have never been in trouble with a teacher. I don't do anything wrong.

"Really?" Her strict expression tells the three of us there is no use in denying it. She's not stupid. "Then will you please read what you wrote in front of the class? Clearly it's more important than what I'm teaching."

I want to say, "you're not teaching, you're showing us a documentary. And if that documentary was more interesting, we wouldn't be writing notes." But I think better of it.

Reluctantly Christina starts from the beginning.

"Do you like anyone?" Some students laugh. She passes the paper to me.

"You mean like-like?" I hand it to Will.

"Christina, don't ask her that. Beatrice, you don't have to answer that."

"Thank you," I say.

"I was just curious," Christina responds.

"You shouldn't ask people that," Will says. "It's a personal question. If she wants to tell you, she will. And she may not even like anyone."

"Not even someone who is sweet and funny and caring?"

"Should I even respond to this?" Will continues.

"I was just curious. I don't need you to tell me what she can easily tell me."

"My point is that it is not your business to ask." Silence fills the room. My face is still hot.

"I understand that you're new, Miss Prior, but you will not pass notes in my class." I nod sheepishly. Ms. Matthews turns her frustration towards Will and Christina. "You two know better."

Ms. Matthews resumes the documentary and we watch it in silence. None of us pass the paper back and forth within the time remaining. I sadly watch the boring movie and remind myself not to mention this to Mom or Dad after school. Not that I will need reminding. I think my parents would be slightly disappointed with my choice to not pay attention, but they will not ground me for it. I have never been grounded and neither has Caleb.

The bell rings and I stand quickly. I don't look at Ms. Matthews as I walk out of the room. Just outside the door, Peter walks past me and says, "so who do you like?" I pretend I didn't hear him.

"It was just a question." I bite my tongue and keep walking to English. I don't look at anyone as I hurry through the crowded halls.

I make it to English before Will does. I sit in my regular seat. Mr. Eaton greets me pleasantly as I walk in. I tell him good morning in reply. Every time I see his face I wonder if the rumor is true. But he looks so nice, how could he beat anyone? Then again, most abusers do appear nice at first.

"Good morning, Will," Mr. Eaton says.

"Good morning."

Will sits down next to me in the back row like he did last class.

"I'm sorry about that, Beatrice," he says, "I really am."

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault or Christina's. I've never been in trouble before, that's all."

Will smiles with a little assurance. He still apologizes even though I tell him not to. It wasn't his fault. It was Peter's.

"Yeah, he's one to watch out for. Molly, Drew, Eric, and Nita aren't great either."

The bell rings and Mr. Eaton jumps into the lesson, which postpones my conversation with Will. Already Mr. Eaton has begun novel circles and has assigned us each a group and a book. Throughout the year we will rotate, so we get a chance to read all the ones he has chosen for us. Thankfully Will and I are in the same group along with Edward and Rita. We are assigned to _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Lucky for me I read it in middle school.

"I've never heard of Nita," I whisper to Will.

"She's not someone you should hang out with," Will says.

"No one likes her," Edward adds. "She's a manipulator. You don't want to get on her bad side."

I'll just add her to the ever-growing list then. So Nita manipulates, Peter is a royal assclown, Molly and Drew are his sidekicks, and Eric is... I don't know. I don't have much experience with him. He's just intimidating.

"What's wrong with Eric?"

Will, Edward, and Rita eye each other carefully. Mr. Eaton walks by our table and Rita pretends to start reading the novel. When Mr. Eaton is gone, she leans in to respond.

"He isn't nice. Not only is he intimidating, but he seems kind of insane."

I want to ask her more, but Mr. Eaton gives us a warning glance to stop talking unless we're reading. I sigh. I can ask Will about it later. For now, we take turns reading a page. We have to read the first three chapters by next class, so whatever we don't finish is homework.

When Edward begins chapter two, it is the first time I notice he has an eye patch. I feel really stupid for not noticing it earlier. What happened? Images of BB gun accidents or too hard rough housing as a child pop into my head. Maybe, the less violent possibility, it was cancer, like Isaac from _The Fault in Our Stars._ It doesn't really matter though, he seems like an okay guy. I feel bad for high .

I am in the middle of chapter four when the bell rings for lunch. I close my book and place it back in the bin Mr. Eaton designated for each book. There are not enough books for each student to keep, so we have to share them with other classes.

Will and I walk down the hall to the cafeteria. Unfortunately we don't beat the center hall rush. I try to keep up with Will, who is yards ahead of me. He's stopped, so that gives me a chance to catch up. I see that he is talking with a blonde girl with familiar green eyes. She's a few inches shorter than Will and by the slight smile she wears, I assume that's Will's sister.

Will turns toward me as I make my way over. Wow, he looks a lot like his sister. They have the same crease between their eyebrows.

"Beatrice, this is my sister Cara." I smile politely and she returns the gesture.

"It's nice to meet you," she says.

"You too."

The boy, well, he looks more like a man than a boy. He's about as tall as Caleb and his dark, tousled hair looks like he just got out of bed. He has a pleasant smile as well. He glances between Will and Cara, waiting to be introduced.

"Oh, sorry," Will says. "This is Matthew. He's Cara's friend." If I'm not mistaken, Cara's smile becomes a little wider and Matthew snickers at Will's emphasis of the word 'friend.' The two of them do stand rather close together, closer than friends might. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were dating, but I've been wrong before. They are even color coordinated. They have very similar blue outfits. Matthew also has a string of green around his neck.

"Would you care to join us for lunch?" Will asks, shifting his gaze between the two. He must be very protective of his sister.

"Thanks," Cara says, "but we have to get to a club. I'll see you after school." Will smiles.

On our way to the cafeteria, I say, "Are they together?" Will keeps staring ahead. We almost reach our table when he answers.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. They act like they are, but nothing's been confirmed."

"That's annoying," I say. I think back to so many couples in books that I waited to get together.

"It is," he continues.

When we reach the table, he smiles at Christina and walks over to kiss the top of her head. I kind of forgot what it's like to have a crush on someone, it's been so long. Another thing my mother always said was 'Don't rush into things. Everything happens for a reason.' That is true. But if there is someone to have a crush on, I'll know when I do. I can't push myself to like someone, it has to come naturally, and that process can take some time.


	6. Fangirling

**Sorry this chapter is short guys. I didn't really know what to write, but the next one will be longer. And there will a lot more Al in the next chapter! Thanks guys!**

 **Oh! Watch out for some** _ **The Mortal Instruments**_ **spoilers ahead. CoLS, CoHF, some Maia, Jordan, Bat things, and a little bit of** _ **Lady Midnight (A Long Conversation**_ **-which is in the back of the book)**

Chapter Six

Man, I am slow today. It took me ten minutes before I realized Edward has an eye patch, and it took me until now to notice everyone was sitting in a different order. Not that it matters all that much, but it's odd. We've been sitting in the same arrangement for three days, which isn't long. It looks like the whole table has rotated its order now that Christina chose to sit in the middle, shifting everyone around. Oh, well. I sit next to Al in the corner seat.

"Beatrice, did you know that Al really likes reading as well?" I look at him for confirmation. He smiles shyly and his cheeks are lightly flushed with color.

"Doesn't a lot of people like-" Will begins, but his words are cut off by Christina elbowing him in the ribs. He shoots her a glare that lasts a nanosecond before returning to the conversation like he didn't interrupt.

"That's awesome," I say. "What books do you like?" He shrugs nervously.

"I don't know. I like a lot of different books. Ranging from _Catcher in the Rye_ to _Me Before You._ What about you?"

"Um..." I didn't think it would be this hard to list my favorite books. "I like a lot of things too. _Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson..._ I know those are for younger kids, but..."

"I still like them," he says. "Did you see the movies?" I try my damnedest not to cringe.

"I wish I didn't." Al laughs.

"Like _The Mortal Instruments?_ " I try to remember back to the movie. I recall some scenes more vividly than others.

"It wasn't _terrible._ It was better than _Percy Jackson._ " Al half-smiles.

"Do I even have to ask who your favorite TMI couple is?" I return the smile. It was never a competition. There is only one OTP.

"No. They are meant to be. Camille can fuck off." I almost expect people to laugh in agreement, but instead they stare at me like I just stabbed someone with a butter knife. Christina and Uriah crack a smile, but the others look sort of horrified. Except Lynn who looks bored. She isn't even looking at me, she's looking at Marlene.

"Sorry," I say, "was that too much?"

"Have you ever been to public school?" Uriah teases. "We have all heard so much worse. It's just surprising coming from such a quiet girl." I internally roll my eyes. Because I am such a quiet, pansy of a little girl, I cannot swear. I swear all the time. To myself.

"But still. Malec is life."

"That's true," Al agrees. "Do you have the same obsession with Sebastian/Jonathan Morgenstern that everyone else does?"

"I hate Sebastian and I feel bad for Jonathan, but I'm not going to cry over his death." Al nods and Christina leans on the table inching a bit closer to me and Al. She finishes crunching on her apple slice before asking a question.

"What are your opinions on Maia and Bat versus Maia and Jordan?"

Al starts answering before I can blink. I can see the light in his brown eyes. He says, "I love the idea of forgiveness. Jordan felt bad for what he did, he didn't mean to do it. Maia _should_ forgive him." I lean back, not expecting his answer, so far back I almost fall off the bench.

"He hurt her," I say. "He physically hurt her. That's never okay. I don't care how sorry he is. I cannot ship Jordan and Maia. I'm not quite sure about Maia and Bat, but he treats her better. He cares about her."

"Jordan cares about her too," Al says.

"Yes, but Bat never attacked her. And they are kind of canon in the end."

"Not necessarily. He held her hand, that was it." I pause for a moment, stopping myself before I spoil something.

"Did you read _A Long Conversation?_ It's in the back of _Lady Midnight._ "

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I want to read it, but I want to finish _The Infernal Devices_ trilogy first."

"Be prepared to be conflicted over Wessa and Jessa," Marlene adds.

"But you don't have to be," Lynn says giving her a spoilery look.

"Okay, maybe Heronstairs or Herongraystairs," Marlene amends.

"I'm still on the third chapter of the first one," Al says.

"Then strap in," I say, "you're about to board a roller coaster of emotions. Have you read _The Raven Cycle?"_

"No, I am so book deprived. I have it in my bookshelf, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Have a fun weekend," I say. Al chuckles. Then he angles himself to look at me better.

"Okay," he says seriously. "I will finish _Clockwork Angel,_ if you read a book of my choosing." I smirk at his little dare. I can do that. I am a rather quick reader, especially if it's a book I'm interested in.

"Deal. Which book?" He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his Goodreads. He pauses on a book. He shows it to me. One the cover is a plain looking girl with a camera in her hands. She's in a school and she looks kind of nervous. _Gone Too Far_ by Natalie Richards.

"I guess I'll be making a trip to the bookstore soon. Okay. You're on. Let's do this."

The rest of lunch continues with me and Al talking about books we like and want to read and the different controversies in some of them. It's actually nice to debate a book with someone that doesn't disrespect my opinion. Al is one of the most, if not _the_ most, respectful guys I have ever met.

The bell rings and I feel a sinking feeling in my chest. Math. Again. I say goodbye to my friends and head upstairs with Marlene.

"You and Al have a lot in common," she says. "Books, writing..." I don't know if that's a _lot_ we have in common, but we've only known each other for a few days, I'm sure there's more.

In math, we start with a warm up and then Mr. Kang tells us to go over any problems on the homework we didn't understand with our table mates. Most tables are rather quiet. Mr. Kang looks around the room at us. I can't tell if he's stunned at our silence or annoyed by it.

"Do none of you have questions?"

"I don't think we know each other very well," Marlene answers, breaking the awkward silence. Mr. Kang sighs with impatience.

"I don't like the first day of school introductions," he says. "I think that if you want to get to know each other you will, but there will be a lot of group work this year, so fine. Tell your table group your name, one thing you like, and something interesting about yourself."

I turn to face Myra and Jamie. I only know their names from roll.

Jamie clears her throat. She looks between me and Myra and says, "My name is Jamie. I like soccer, and my favorite animal is a horse."

"My name is Myra, I like school, and I am allergic to shellfish."

I cough once. I look up at Myra and Jamie and say, "My name is Beatrice, I like reading, and I moved here from Milwaukee." Jamie and Myra nod silently.

Mr. Kang calls the class to order after two minutes of our silly introductions. We work with our table mates to complete a rather thick packet on review from our previous math classes. I think it would be more efficient to work alone because it would show what we know and remember, not what our partners do. But then again, I don't really care. Unfortunately school has turned into a system of points and grades not knowledge. I would never admit to my parents how times I have had to cheat on tests just to pass.

The packet is all we work on in class, which makes it a rather boring day. Once the bell rings, I am off to biology. Christina is sitting in her regular seat, which is next to mine.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she says as I sit down. "I didn't want to get you in trouble. And Will was right. It's not my place to ask you." I shrug.

"It was Peter's fault we got in trouble, first of all. And I understand." That's kind of true. I know Christina is a curious person and needs to know the answer, but I barely know her. If it were December, or October even, it might be better, but we started school only this week.

"How's writing going?" I look at her. She's being genuine.

"I like it. We can do whatever we want, really. Ms. Reyes said it's a really hard class to fail." She smiles.

"That's nice. I wish I had a class like that."

"You can always join me and Al. We have some interesting seniors in our class."

"Who?"

"Zeke and Shauna are the most entertaining." Christina smiles again.

"Zeke is Uriah's older brother." That explains their similar personalities. "So that class should be very entertaining. Have fun." I chuckle once.

"Don't think I won't."


	7. Al

Chapter Seven

It's finally Friday. I have never been happier. I have good classes today-sans PE. The best thing about this Friday is I get to start my day with Al!

"Are you ready for your challenge?" Al asks when I sit down. His eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I've made plans to go to the bookstore this weekend. Are you ready?"

"Yep. I read some last night. I'm on chapter four now." I laugh.

We spend the next few minutes talking about Tessa Gray and the creepy Dark sisters and the shirt scene with Will and Jem. The bell rings and we try contain our laughter when Ms. Reyes starts class.

"All right class," she says, "today we are going to work on our storytelling skills. I'm going to call out a word and you will tell a story that has to do with that word. We'll start with true stories to make it easier. An example of this is if I said 'school,' you would have to tell your table mates a story that involved that word. Does this make sense?" Everyone in the class is silent, but we nod.

"Great. Okay. Let's start with 'school.'" Al and I turn toward each other and we smile awkwardly.

"Ladies first," he says. I blush and give him a small grin before I start my story.

"Okay, so one day, back in Milwaukee, I was at recess with my friend Sarah. This was in fifth grade by the way. And for some reason we were running on the field and I accidentally tripped her and we fell." Al forces his lips into a straight line. "And my crush was watching... And I was wearing white pants." Al bursts out laughing. I chuckle nervously and feel the heat rush into my cheeks.

"I'm sorry. That's not funny. That sounds very unfortunate."

"So why are you laughing?" He tries to compose himself.

"I'm not," he lies. "I'm choking." I roll my eyes playfully and with a smile.

"Your turn."

"Okay, okay. So once when I was in middle school, me and Christina were in gym. It was free time, so we walked around the track. We didn't know what time it was, so we headed back, but the door was locked. We literally- like, we started panicking. So our resolution was to go the long way around, like we would go into gym from the main building. Our teacher didn't even notice. But for two twelve year olds it was freaky."

I cover my mouth with my hand.

"I'm very sorry," I say. "That's incredibly unfortunate." Al returns my playful eye roll. We wait for another minute or so before Ms. Reyes changes the word.

"Mom." I laugh.

"Sounds like you have a good story." I nod and he smiles.

"Okay, so when my mom was younger she and her friends drove to Madison for a short while and were driving back and they had to stop at a rest stop. They didn't really want to stop because my mom's car was old and it took ten minutes to restart it once it died, which was every time they turned it off. But they had to stop, keep in mind she had a stick shift.

"When my mom tried again, she didn't start the car in time and it flooded the engine. So they waited on a nearby bench. My mom was with some of her friends and Angie wanted to know what my mom's pepper spray looked like. So she took out the can and held it away from both of them and sprayed it, but the wind picked up and blew the pepper spray into Angie's eyes." Al starts laughing hysterically and it's hard not to join in. It is a funny story.

After a while, Al's laughter ceases. His face is still a cute shade of pink and his smile makes me want to tell my story again.

"So when my mom was little, she was playing in her room when my aunt came up to her and said 'Hey! Do you really want to make Mom happy?' and my mom was enthusiastic about the idea, so she followed my aunt into the bathroom. My aunt told my mom to put toothpaste on the toilet paper and throw it on the ceiling." I cover my mouth with my hand, anticipating the blow. "And then she got my grandma and then my mom got in trouble."

"You're aunt was devious." Al cracks a smile. "How much older is your aunt than your mom?"

"About three and a half years, four or so."

"Wow!" I would have ignored Caleb for. Maybe if he was terrible enough to do that to me.

"I don't have siblings and I'm okay with that knowing how awful my aunt was to my mom."

"Caleb's a fine brother, but we're also really close in age."

The next word Ms. Reyes chooses is 'friends.' I have to stop to think about it for a moment. What interesting story do I have that involves friends? Al waits for me to tell my story patiently.

"You go first," I say, "I'm trying to think."

"Okay let's see. Well, I only had two friends in elementary school. Christina was one of them. We met in third grade." He shrugs, not knowing how to continue.

"When did you meet Will and the others?"

"Well, we had science with Will last year and it took a while before they actually started dating. Will's sister is friends with Zeke and that's how we met Uriah, and that lead to us meeting Marlene and Lynn."

"Lynn doesn't like me, does she?" That was a dumb question because I can tell by how she acts that, no, she doesn't like me. I guess I want to know why, instead of confirmation.

"She doesn't mind you too much. She's not really a people person. Don't take it too personally. She only really likes Marlene, Uriah, and her sister." Al jerks his chin in a direction outside of my view. I swivel around to see who he means. Shauna.

I turn back to him and say, "Shauna is Lynn's sister?" He nods. I'm learning a lot today. I blink a few times and return to our conversation.

"She seems kind of..." I don't know how to finish my sentence. There are so many and yet so little words to describe Lynn. Al seems to know what I mean without my saying anything.

"We think she's a little bitter," he whispers. I ask him why and he leans in closer than he ever has. I've not only never been this close to a boy, but never this close to Al. He doesn't make it obvious that he's telling me a secret, but like he might kiss me. Of course he doesn't, but if I were someone watching, I would think I was witnessing a rom-com. I've never kissed anyone before. We are so close I notice that he smells like sage and lemongrass.

"She has a crush Marlene, we suspect, and is jealous of her and Uriah's relationship." I nod slightly. I swallow for no real reason and Al sits back in his seat like we hasn't moved all period. His smile does something odd. I don't recognize what the feeling is and brush it off as a side effect of not eating breakfast. I woke up late, okay.

"Oh," I say. "Unrequited love." Al looks at the ground with a pinch of recognition in his brown eyes and the turned down corners of his mouth.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "It sucks." I feel a tingling in my stomach and decide that it is best to change the subject. But I don't have any good stories.

Luckily, Ms. Reyes changes the word. Movie.

"Once," I say, jumping on the topic. I don't want to see Al so upset. "My mom and I wanted to see a movie, but it wasn't playing in many theaters and so we had to go kind of far away. And when we got there, the roof was falling down in chunks. I seriously thought we were going to die." He looks up with wide eyes and tight lips. At least the sadness is gone from his face.

"I didn't want to watch _Harry Potter_ when it first came out, and it took so much convincing from my dad until I watched it and then I became obsessed with it. When it came time for me to watch the _Goblet of Fire,_ I was so scared, I refused to watch it after the first time."

"I feel that," I say. "When you're young, the _Goblet of Fire_ is not the best movie to watch."

A few random words are thrown out, but soon class ends. I pick up my backpack and wait for Al before I walk out of the room. He goes to math and I go to psychology. I take my seat from last class. Susan is already here and she asks me how my morning went. I tell her it was good, and ask her about her morning. She doesn't give me much detail.

Peter walks in the room, but I pretend not to notice. Until he sits on the desk in front of me. I look up but quickly return my attention to getting my stuff out.

"Who _do_ you have a crush on?" His inquiry catches everyone's attention. They all look at us. Susan is polite enough not to stare. She glances around the room. I notice Ms. Wu isn't here yet.

"Certainly not you." He chuckles softly and halfheartedly.

"I figured as much."

"It's none of your business, Peter," Susan says. And even though Susan's voice is quiet and broke two times in her sentence, the class oohs like she just slapped him.

"Oh, the little girl can speak. This amazes me. She seems so stiff." Molly and Drew laugh. Molly has an ugly laugh and Drew laughs silently, making him look like he's in pain.

"Why do you have to be such a dick?" I say. He doesn't take this kindly, but Ms. Wu walks in. She tells Peter to get off the desk. Susan looks at me with wide eyes and lips pressed into a line, like Al did earlier.

"I can't believe you said that." Her voice is quiet.

"Why? He deserved to hear it." She shakes her head.

"No, I mean, no one stands up for me."

"No one stands up for me either. Don't worry about it." Susan smiles and nods. I look back to Ms. Wu.

"Today," she says, "we will be learning about the mid-brain. Who can tell me what the mid-brain seats?" No one raises their hand. I learned this in health last year. I raise my hand reluctantly.

"Beatrice?"

"It controls motor functions, vision, hearing, the nervous system, arousal, and your subconscious and conscious mind."

"Very good. And can I ask you to expand on the term arousal, to clarify for Mr. Hayes who may need the distinction explained to him?"

"Alertness." Ms. Wu smiles.

"That is correct. Today we are going to start our unit on the subconscious and conscious mind."

* * *

Susan and I walk to lunch chatting about this and that, mostly how terrible Peter is.

When we sit down, Uriah tells us about his "epiphany."

"We don't have your phone numbers," he says to me and Susan. He pulls his phone out and waits for one of us.

"I don't have a cell phone," Susan says. "We have a really old landline at our house." She tells him what that number is. "Though no one really calls us on it. Only my father, brother, and I live there."

"What's yours, Beatrice?"

"414-555-5683." Everyone puts our numbers in their phones, except Lynn. No one says anything to her.

Just then my phone buzzes quite a few times. They are messages from my friends. I enter their numbers into my contacts. I smile and put my phone away.

* * *

In gym, we run another mile and on our third lap around the track, Peter catches up.

"Still don't know, or still don't want to tell me?"

"Shove off."

"I'm not being offensive," he says defensively, "I'm just curious. Like Christina."

"Yes, well, while it's not offensive, it did come off a little rude. But you want the answer? No one."

"That can't be true. My mother is a psychologist, she taught me to read body language when I was young. I know when people are lying..."

"Leave her alone," Al says. "She's done nothing to you."

"I just can't live in a world with liars..."

"So how do you live with yourself?" I try to retain my posture and calm expression. When Peter stops jogging next to us, that's when I start to worry.

"You better watch what you say." Al chuckles.

"It's funny, you think I'm scared of you." Peter stares at him for what feels like five years. I feel my stomach turn in somersaults and the tension between them makes me want to throw up. I actually have to clutch Uriah for support. He wraps an arm around me and keeps me standing, though he shifts so he's standing a tad in front of me.

"Don't make me give you a reason to be scared of me." He runs off. I struggle out of Uriah's grasp to smack Al's arm.

"What's wrong with you? He could kill you." Al laughs.

"I believe in standing up for people-"

"That's great," I interrupt, "so do I, but he's just giving me a hard time. I've been bullied worse. It's fine."

"No it's not. No one should have to go through that." I don't say anything. I still feel like I'm going to puke if I open my mouth. I take deep breaths through my nose and hug Al. He steps back out of surprise, but he wraps his arms around me. And suddenly I don't feel so sick.

After gym, I think Al and Uriah think I am completely unstable and insist on walking me to the library door. I walk to my table with Christina looking at me like she might need to call an ambulance.

"What happened in gym?" She asks as I walk over. She pulls a chair out for me. I thank her and shake my head.

"I'm just lucky to have such a wonderful friend like Al." I sit there and tell her what happened as I catch my breath.


	8. Shopping Trip

**Author's note: Hi guys! Thank you all again for your support and love for this story! This chapter is kind of short, so I decided to post chapters 8 and 9 today. There isn't _too_ much Al, but there is more Al in chapter ten! Hang in there, there will be more Alis moments to come!**

 **Love always,**

 **Allison**

Chapter Eight

I love Saturdays because I can sleep in. I went to bed at ten thirty last night and woke up at eight. I have to get up at six every morning on school nights and I have church on Sunday. I don't mind church, but I'm not overly religious. My father is a religious man, but tolerates those who are not.

I finally decide to get out of bed and take a quick shower before I go downstairs for breakfast. I make a quick bowl of cereal and when I'm done, wash my dishes in the sink and then load them in the dishwasher.

My parents have left for work already and Caleb is reading some textbook for a class I don't have. I eye the clock and it is now a quarter to nine. I have plans to go out, but I guess I can wait a while. I have all day. There's no need to hurry.

I sit down and do some psychology homework until nine thirty when my phone goes off. It is a text from Christina.

 _What are you doing today?_

 _I was going to the bookstore. Do you want to come?_

A few seconds later, Christina replies with _Yes!_

I laugh to myself. I shove my phone in my pocket. I close my notebook, get off the couch and head upstairs to drop it off in my room. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and grab a light sweater. I remove my ratty purse from the closet and check to make sure there is money inside. I head downstairs and double check I have my keys in my purse.

"I'm going to the mall with Christina," I call to Caleb.

"Okay, have fun." He doesn't look up from his book. I continue of my way outside. It's sunny out; good thing I remembered my sunglasses. I lock the door and place them over my eyes. It lightly blocks the bright sun. Maybe I should buy new ones while I'm out today.

Over text, I learned Christina and I live close to each other. I walk a few blocks to the east and one south of my house. She said she'd be ready to go, and when I walk by her house, she is. She is sitting on the porch with a woman and young girl, the latter must be her sister.

"Hey!" she says.

"Hey." I walk up to her house, taking one step onto the stairs leading to the porch. In excitement, Christina drags me by the hand to the top.

"This is my mom, Stephanie, and my sister Rose." I smile politely without saying a word. "This is my friend Beatrice." Stephanie sets the needlepoint she is working on to the side. She smiles a small grin and extends her hand for me to shake. I've always been incredibly introverted and antisocial and don't know how to shake hands well. I hope I do alright. Rose doesn't bother shaking my hand. She looks at me with a questioning expression, but she must decide I'm okay when she smiles similarly to her mother.

"It's nice to meet you," Christina's mom says.

"It's nice to meet you too." Christina tells me she's ready to go and drags me back down the stairs. As I nearly trip over my feet on the way down, I hear barking. It must be her dog.

"You have a dog?" I say. Christina looks at me and smiles.

"Yep. His name is Chunker." On our way to the mall-that's where we agreed to go-Chris tells me a story about how Chunker ate a turkey off the counter one evening. She thought it was hilarious and started laughing at her own story, I on the other hand start laughing because her laughter is contagious. After keeping to myself for so many years, it is nice to be around outgoing people, to hear them laugh.

When we get to the mall, we start by going to the bookstore first. I have to search fairly hard before finding the book Al challenged me to read. I look at the back of the book for a summary. It says it's a about a girl in high school that gets sucked into some kind of blackmail scheme. _That sounds interesting._

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday," Chris says after I buy the book and we had back out into the mall.

"About what?" I ask, a little distracted by the Cinnabon.

"The thing with Al yesterday." Al's name snaps me out of my food reverie.

"What about it?" Instead of a smile, which I am expecting from Chris, she gives me a very serious look. There's no trace of a smile dancing on her lips. Her eyes are slightly narrowed.

"He stood up to Peter for you. No one ever does that."

"Why?" Peter's just a bully. He had to have been stood up to before.

"He's crazy," Chris says. "Last year, Peter and Edward tried out for JV football. Edward beat Peter by a landslide and Peter didn't even make the team. This didn't bode well with Peter who is used to getting whatever he wants. I'm sure you've heard about Edward if you haven't met him yet."

"I know Edward. He's in my English class."

"Well then, you know about the accident. Very quick-to-die rumors around the school say that Peter stabbed him and that's why he has to wear the eyepatch. There was no physical evidence against Peter, so he was never arrested, and it wasn't on school property. THere's nothing they can do."

"So Edward just did nothing? Does nobody believe him?" Christina's serious expression turns graver and her face becomes tinted with a slight shade of green.

"He wasn't _awake_ ," she whispers. I try not to think about what that was like. "No one talks about that at school because they're too afraid Peter will stab them too. Edward's lucky he's not dead."

I can't even begin to imagine how utterly horrendous it would be to lose a child, but losing a child to murder? That would be the worst. I try to shake off the thought and focus on the fact that Edward is still alive, thankfully.

"All I'm saying is," Christina continues, "Al must care a great deal about you to stand up to Peter."

That's what Peter meant when he said he could give Al something to be scared of. My stomach turns at the thought again and instantly the Cinnabon does not sound appetizing anymore. I was right when I accused Peter of being able to kill Al, and all he did was laugh it off.

"Yeah," I mumble, lost in thought.

"But let's not think about that," Chris says. "What we should focus on is that ugly sweater you're wearing." My head snaps up in her direction.

"My mother bought me this," I say defensively.

"It looks like a cat got ahold of it." I look at the jacket my mom got me for my birthday a few years ago. It has holes in it and the hood is barely attached anymore. The black color faded into a muddy brown.

"It's not the best, but I like it."

"You need a new one," Christina protests. And she drags me into some clothing store against _my_ protests. I veto every jacket she holds up, just to be difficult. Most of the ones she holds up are either too form fitting or too colorful, or a horrid combination of both.

"I don't wear a lot of bright colors," I tell her. The brightest color anyone could ever get me to wear is a dark green.

"Okay, black or brown? Or grey?"

I stand with my arms crosses and sigh heavily. I try telling her I don't care, but then she responds with something like 'Well then why not the red one?' As much as I've grown to love Christina over the past few days, she can be incredibly infuriating.

"I'm stubborn. Don't make me." Christina brushes off my wishes with a laugh and tosses me a black jacket.

"I wear enough black as it is," I say. "People will think I'm going to a funeral."

"Just tell 'em it's theirs and they'll shut right up." She tosses a grey and brown one at me and makes me model all of them for her.

"Beatrice, if you don't choose one, I'll do it for you."

That threat scares the hell out of me. What if it's that red one? Or the tan one? Or worse... the paisley one? Though that one had to be a joke. Not even Christina would find that thing attractive. I mean it was neon paisley. Who thought that was a good idea? The seventies ended.

"Fine," I say, giving in with a sigh of frustration, "the brown one."

Christina smiles cheerily and I roll my eyes. I hope she'll let me keep my old one just because. I don't think my mom would care if I got rid of it, but I am afraid it might hurt her feelings deep down.

After Christina's hostage takeover ends, we decide to go to the food court for lunch. I do not believe we have been here for hours. Only two items were purchased, and they were both for me! Why can't I watch as Christina models clothes for me? _Because life isn't fair._

"You are not a shopper," Christina points out as she bites a fry in half.

"We've all spotted," I reply monotonously. "You're the shopper, where are your bags?" She smiles.

"We're getting there," she says. "Don't worry."

I roll my eyes again, but playfully this time.

As we finish lunch and continue walking around the mall, Christina tells me that she better see me wearing my new jacket to school on Monday.

"It's a really nice color on you," she says. "It goes well with your eyes."

I never really thought about that, but I guess they do. Brown and blue.


	9. Happiness

**Hi everyone! I will be briefly discussing Clockwork Angel and Gone Too Far, but I will not spoil anything. Also I highly recommend Gone Too Far. It's an excellent book and I finished it in less than a day, I was so captivated. I even convinced Elizabeth to read it and she loved it (and she's a picky reader).**

 **Anyway, enough of my rambling. On with the story!**

Chapter Nine

I was up all night reading Gone Too Far. It really is an amazing book. I couldn't put it down. I cannot believe the ending! That was not what I was expecting. I thought that it was... It made more sense that way. And Nick! I have never... I literally cannot even. That was one of the best books I've ever read!

It was so good, but I can't call Al and talk about it. My family and I are going to church. I dress in my nice clothes and go downstairs. The rest of my family is ready to go.

Even though we live in a different city, church is virtually the same. Well, we changed cities not religions, so church in Chicago is going to be very similar to church in Milwaukee. The people are different. They are a little weird, but maybe that is because I am not used to Chicago. After a few more Sundays here, I'll feel more at ease. It's not that they aren't friendly, but they are unfamiliar.

We start at eight and are done not terribly long after. When we return home, I change into a worn pair of jeans where the knees have holes. Mom wants me to get new clothes, but these pants are still functional. I have no need to throw them away yet. They are also frayed at the hems. My pants have always been big on me because I am a small girl. They drag on the ground constantly. I try to roll them up, but it's no use. I don't bother changing shirts. I'm wearing a white blouse, I'm not embarrassed to be seen in that. I don't like skirts, they make me feel weird.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mom says. I sit on the couch next to her and pick up a different book.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm just tired." Which is true. I slept the normal amount of hours I usually do, but I still feel exhausted. I think that book emotionally drained me. I was very invested.

I want to text Al, but it's Sunday morning at nine thirty and he has a large book to finish. I'll give him some time. Besides, boys like to sleep in. It could be an hour before he wakes up.

"We were thinking about taking a picnic to the park," Dad says, gaining my attention. "The weather should be nice."

I look up and smile at my father. "I think that sounds great." He smiles and walks into the kitchen.

At eleven twenty five, once setting my book down and uncurling my legs from the couch, I make my way into the kitchen as well to help my parents with getting food ready. Placing apples in the picnic basket as well as other fruits and vegetables. I place a few water bottles inside as well.

Before we leave the house, I sneak my phone into my back pocket. I hope, with every ounce of desire in my body, that Al will text me sometime today since he didn't text me yesterday. I was disappointed by ten that I didn't receive a message from Al. I had to remind myself that he was busy with Tessa and Will and Jem.

We decided-and by we, I mean my parents-to walk to the closest park. After examining the area, we found a nice spot. Caleb spread out the picnic blanket on the ground and I set the basket on top. I place it in the middle, so it is easier to take what we want. I always place four items of each food we choose to take in the basket. In past years Caleb somehow got ahold of my grapes before I did. In revenge I took his cheese cube. He never told on me and I never told on him. I was trying to get back at him and he stared at me with the most 'Touché' look on his face. It always made me laugh until I started choking on my cheese cube.

I steal my baggie of grapes before Caleb can and toss his to him. He grins and pops a few in his mouth. I playfully stick my tongue out at him. I turn my head, hoping Mom and Dad didn't see that. Luckily they didn't, they are looking at the rest of the park.

"This is a nice city, don't you think?" Mom says. I finish chewing my grape before I answer.

"Yeah," I say. "I like it here."

Mom and Dad smile. They look at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to me and Caleb. In turn, we look at each other. Caleb has our mother's eyes and our father's brown hair. I look very different from him with my blonde hair and blue eyes. Suddenly I am reminded of what Christina said yesterday.

With narrowed eyes, I twist my body to look at my parents.

"I have a random question," I say. They wait patiently for me to continue. "Does brown go well with my eyes?"

Mom and Dad look a little surprised, but the questions is not unheard of. They take a second to ponder my inquiry.

"I think so," Caleb says. We all turn our attention to him. "I think lighter browns bring out the slight highlights in your hair."

"Thanks, but I was asking about my eyes."

"I know that, just give me a chance to analyze." I sigh childishly and impatiently. "I talk it out to myself. Give me a second, Beatrice."

Mom and Dad chuckle from across the picnic blanket. I don't tear my attention away from Caleb.

"I think a darker brown would go better with your eyes than a lighter brown considering you have lighter eyes. A light brown could dull them or wash them out completely. A dark brown would make them pop."

"I think that's true," Mom says. "That's why people wear such dark mascara and eyeliner." I nod.

I never wear makeup. Would it bring out my eyes along with my jacket? Maybe I'll experiment next weekend. Just to see, of course.

 **MONDAY AT LUNCH**

I run into the cafeteria and plop myself down next to Al. He looks just as excited to see me.

"I really like Nick. He's one of the best fictional boyfriends I've ever read about."

"Nick is great," Al agrees. "Wessa or Jessa? I'm conflicted."

"You really don't have to worry about that," I say, remembering what Lynn said. "But I really admire Jem's sensitivity. Will reminds me too much of Jace and Jem reminds me of Alec, and considering I like Alec more than Jace, I prefer Jessa."

"Will and Jace have really similar personalities," Al says. Marlene giggles from across the table.

"They do," I say. "Tacey though."

"I thought it was going to be worse," Al admits, "but it makes sense if you think about it. Tacey is kind of annoying, too."

"She kinda is, but I like her. Did you think it was going to be the person it was?"

Al and I continue talking about the books we read over the weekend. Trying not to spoil anything for our friends who haven't read these books. We also spend a good chunk of time trying to convince them to read them.

"I wish Gone Too Far had a sequel," I say with a touch of disappointed.

"Me too! I want to know what happens next! I'm lucky I can go home and read Clockwork Prince." I smile.

"Your enthusiasm is adorable," I tell him. He smiles.

"Thanks, so is yours."

Al and I continue to stare at each other while the others whisper something unintelligible. What catches my attention is Christina's near hyperventilation.

"You okay?" I ask. She nods and grasps Will's hand. He wraps an arm around her protectively. He mumbles something in her ear and she looks at him with a smile. The second their eyes meet, her breathing returns to normal.

Aww! They are a cute couple. I'm glad they're happy together.

That doesn't sound terrible. To have someone love you like Will and Jem love Tessa, the way Nick loves Piper, the way Will loves Christina.

Caleb believes I'm in a constant state of denial. I want everyone to have a happy ending. I'm not ignorant, I know that doesn't happen. And not everyone's happy ending is being married with a nice job and two kids, but I never said that. Everyone is different and they have different happy endings for themselves. Whatever that is, I want everyone to have that.

I don't know what I want my happy ending to be yet, but I'm young. I have quite a while to figure it out, but what I want right now is to see all my friends as happy as Will and Christina appear to be.

Especially Al.


	10. From Beatrice to Tris

Chapter Ten

All of today's classes will be shortened because we have a welcome assembly this morning. When I heard about that, I thought that it was a tad late for a welcome assembly. It is already the second week of school. We usually had these kinds of pep assemblies during the first week of school back home, but whatever.

Writing starts and Ms. Reyes jumps right into class.

"If you remember last week, we went around and told stories to our table mates involving random words I said. Today we will be repeating the exercise, but now you will be inventing your own story. You will not be telling a true story." A few excited murmurs pass through the room. "And if you want, after that, we can all tell a story together. I will explain those rules when we get to the activity."

The class waits for Ms. Reyes to announce the first word, which is iguana. I attempt not to laugh.

"Ron was walking home from work one day," Al begins, "when he saw something move across the busy street. From over ten yards away and without his glasses, he could not tell if the creature he saw was a possum or if it was a fat lizard. Ron was tempted to turn around and take the long way back, but then he saw the creature was an iguana. This confused Ron greatly because he didn't live in iguana territory. He then had a sudden thought and fear it would shift shapes into a dragon and catnap his precious Waffles."

"Wait," I say. "His cat's name is Waffles?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I didn't know if he thought the dragon would take his cat named Waffles, or steal his actual waffles. Got it. Continue." Al chuckles.

"The thought worried Ron so much, he sprinted home. Luckily the iguana had not followed him and Waffles was safe. He was lapping up the fresh water Ron set out earlier for him. Waffles looked up at Ron and meowed before returning to his water dish. Ron had nothing to fear, but he still wanted to iguana-proof the house before bed. The end."

"That was really entertaining," I say. "I like it."

I decide to wait a few more minutes for the next word so I don't get cut off mid-story. I don't know what I would have said. Al is good at thinking on his feet.

My story has to include the word 'photograph.'

"Ned and I rummaged through the attic looking for that box of Grandma's things. The one with all the nice silverware. She asked us to bring everything down for Lola's rehearsal dinner this evening. It took hours before we found the correct set. Who knew one person could own so much silverware? I carefully lifted the box and carried it down two flights of stairs and outside to the tent. Lola was inside putting her makeup on while the rest of us did all the hard work.

"Grandma gave us a photograph to reference how the rehearsal dinner looked days before her own wedding. It was up to me and Ned to fix it all up in the next few hours. Cindy wasn't helpful and Mom was running around barking orders at people. Now that I think about it, Ned and I got the easy job."

Al sat there staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite put my finger on. He looks an equal amount of impressed, pleased, and pleasantly surprised.

"How do you do that? Just make up stories like that?" I shrug.

"It took me years. I'm good at making things up to please others."

"You're very selfless." I replace my scoff with a smile. I'm not selfless, but there's no need to deny a compliment.

"You are too," I say.

Al doesn't reply yet, Ms. Reyes unintentionally interrupts by shouting out the next word.

"I took a handful of almonds from dish in front of me; eating them one at a time. I flip flopped my attention from Mom to Dad and back again as they continued arguing. I felt like I was watching a lame soap opera. They always playfully fought in this way. Going back and forth about something stupid that happened at work with smiles that said they weren't really mad. It used to scare me as a kid when my parents would fight, knowing the divorce rate was not going down.

"One day when I was visiting my aunt and uncle, and my parents started arguing, I ran into the garden in the back and my aunt came out to comfort me. I'll never forget her words. 'All couples fight and that's okay as long as nothing turns physical. It's when couples stop fighting when all hope is lost because it means here is nothing left to fight for.'"

It takes me a while to absorb the story he just told.

"Al that was beautiful. Are you sure that wasn't a true story?"

He smiles proudly. "Yeah. I don't see my aunt anymore, she's crazy."

"The one who told your mom to put toothpaste on the toilet paper and throw it on the ceiling?"

"That's the one. I haven't seen her in years. Probably best that way." I don't want to bring up a difficult subject, so I move on on the conversation.

"Well, that was amazing. That was really realistic."

"So was yours," he says.

"Who names their daughter Lola?"

Al laughs.

A while later, Ms. Reyes changes the word again. Since we only have ten minutes left of class, this is the last story bomb. The word is 'orchard.'

I take a moment to picture an orchard in my mind. Sometimes if I picture a setting in my mind, the story comes easier

How do I picture this orchard? Rows and rows of cherry blossom trees. Ripe apples have fallen to the ground. The grass is as bright as the clear sky. It's summer and the breeze is refreshing in the hot sun. I could start the story that way.

"Cherry blossoms line the green pathway beneath my feet. The grass is greener here than anywhere I've seen in years. Apple litter the ground. I consider picking one up and taking a bite, but then I reconsider when I remind myself of the pesticides.

"I walk down the calming path with the breeze temporarily blowing the heat away. I close my eyes and let my feet take me where they may. Hopefully there is a stream around here. The breeze won't last and it's not enough to keep my a body at a pleasant temperature."

I just realize how stupid that line is. The breeze doesn't influence your internal temperature. But Al gives me the same look he did last story I shared.

"Is this genetic or do you offer lessons?"

I giggle shyly and turn my head so he can't see me blush.

"I don't know," I say. "I'll ask my family if they're good at this too. I'll text you after school."

When this round ends, Ms. Reyes explains our next activity.

"We are going to go around the room and share one sentence until all of our sentences string into a new story. We'll keep going until the bell rings and then we'll walk down to the auditorium together for the assembly. Is there anyone who wants to go first? Who wants to start us off?"

Zeke raises his hand immediately and Ms. Reyes chuckles and calls on him.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy named Chad."

Tobias adds one sentence, "Chad was very good at basketball."

And then Shauna, "But he was so short, it often caused problems for him."

Other students made up sentences until we learned that Chad didn't want to play basketball, he preferred rollerblading.

And then it was Al's turn. "Chad would take his skates out every day after school and skated around the neighborhood."

I freeze up at everyone's eyes on my face, but I throw out a sentence. "He spent hours practicing; he practiced until it got dark."

The story develops into some kind of romance where Chad only took up rollerblading to impress the kid down the street who hates basketball.

It was Zeke's turn again. "When Chad reached his crush's house, not only did his heart skid to a stop, but so did he."

"Unfortunately for Chad, he tripped over the curb and fell hard on the sidewalk."

"Chad looked up to see his crush staring in utter shock."

A girl, whose name I just learn is Lauren, continues after Shauna. "Chad was to embarrassed to see if... Uh... Donna was looking, so he picked himself up and rollerbladed home."

The story went around until Donna showed up at Chad's house to give him a get well soon card and went home. Chad was apparently confused by this since he was not injured severely.

The weird piece of fiction we created ends on Tobias as the bell rings. He doesn't bother wrapping up the story for Chad and Donna, which is a shame.

Ms. Reyes tells us to walk quietly to the auditorium. She was going to take attendance to make sure none of us skip.

Walking through the halls, Al compliments my storytelling skills.

"You're really good Beatrice."

I am about to respond when a girl's voice echoes my name from behind. On instinct I turn to face her. I don't know her whatsoever. She's around my height, has smooth looking brown skin, and dark hair. She's pretty.

"What kind of name is that?" she says. "Who named you? Your great-grandparents?"

I sigh. I don't take too much offense. My name isn't very common for being born in the early 2000s.

"Why do you do this Nita?"

What was it that Will, Edward, and Rita said about Nita?

 _"She's not someone you should hang out with," Will says._

 _"No one likes her," Edward adds. "She's a manipulator. You don't want to get on her bad side."_

Great. I just made another enemy. And this is only the second week of school.

"I have an old fashioned name too," Al says.

Nita must not know how to respond. She glares at me and Al and dramatically flips her hair and walks away.

"I like your name," Al says. I glance at him for a second before following Nita with my gaze. This has happened too many times.

"Tris," I say. Al raises an eyebrow. "You can call me Tris. I'm done with Beatrice." He sighs sadly.

"I really do like your name."

"Thanks Al, but it's been fifteen years too long I've heard these kinds of things."

"Try not to let her upset you. She's graduating this year, so it doesn't matter. Don't let one little thing she says get you down."

"Thank you for your kind words, but I want to do this."

Al drops it and we walk the short ways to the auditorium.

The assembly and the rest of the day was boring. I almost fell asleep in psych. I had to deal with Peter and his lackeys and then I had to deal with Peter again in gym. Christina could sense I was stressed by the time study hall came, so she left me alone. I finished my homework and got caught up in my psychology textbook and To Kill a Mockingbird.

When Caleb asked about my day as we were walking home, I neglected to mention the teasing from Nita. I highlighted writing and my day with Al. Caleb couldn't shut up about History.

At home I take a quick nap. I wake up to the sound of Mom and Dad coming home.

"Tired?" Dad asks. I nod groggily.

"How was your day?" Mom wonders.

I tell her my day was fine and Caleb echoes me. We ask them the same thing and they reply the way they always do.

"Oh, I was wondering if you guys are good at making stories up on the spot for entertainment."

Dad gives me a serious look and Mom cracks up. Even Caleb snickers from the dining room table.

"I take that as a no."

I take my phone out and form a text to send Al.

 _50 bucks a lesson_

He takes no time to reply. It's as if he has his phone in his hand, which wouldn't surprise me. Most teens do.

I read his text and I can't help but blush.

 _It will be worth it, Tris_


	11. Setting Up

Chapter Eleven

Saturday, October 29th

A few of us volunteered to help Mr. Eaton set up for the haunted house at school. We spent last weekend sorting through boxes and getting the props we want to decorate our room. We have each been assigned a room to decorate. Mr. Eaton let us choose partners for this project. Christina had been quick to ask Matthew to be her partner. I was okay with this. I like spending time with Al. Tobias and Zeke are partners and a whole bunch of other kids I don't know. Susan is partners with Edward. I guess they know each other from some class, and before high school. This left Lynn and Jamie. To be honest, the more time I spent with Jamie in math, the more I think her and Lynn would be a cute couple. I know Will and Cara would have liked to do this, but I think Cara has a lot of homework for her AP classes and Will has a project that he needs to work on. I tried to convince Caleb to come and help, but he has another study group with Nicholas, Kathleen, and Rick. For as often as Caleb has study groups with these people, I've never actually met them. I've heard of Rick before because him and Al have been good friends since fourth grade. But I have yet to meet Rick.

Anyway, I think this should be fun. I have never put on a haunted house before. Our job is to scare the living daylights out of the other kids. I am super excited. Usually _I'm_ the one being scared at haunted houses, so this will be a nice change.

And Mr. Eaton offered extra credit to his students that volunteered. I think Uriah didn't want to give up his Saturday and was going to spend the day with Marlene.

"Let's finish this and then you're all free to go," Mr. Eaton says. He dismisses to go to our assigned rooms.

Al and I walk to room 136 where our stuff is. Today is the day we get to decorate the rooms we have been assigned.

I take out our props from the box and lay them out on the table. We have talking skulls, spiderwebs, fake blood made out of that window cling rubber, caution tape, sheets made to look like ghosts, and all that jazz.

"Here," Al says. He takes out his phone and types something in and presses a few buttons. He sets his phone on the middle of the table. A familiar song begins playing.

"Is this the _Nightmare Before Christmas_ theme song?" I ask. He looks up from separating the cotton spiderweb and smiles.

"Yeah."

I take a clingy rubber blood and stick it to the walls. It has the dripping effect, so I try not to place it in the middle of the wall. I think it looks tacky if the blood drips from nowhere. I guess I could tell the other kids the story of the Hash Slinging Slasher. That's a scary story. Good for Halloween.

A while later, Al and I decide to turn the tables on their sides to create a sort of labyrinth. It looks like a backwards lightning bolt.

"Should we add a strobe light?" I ask. "We could set it by the door, so as kids walk in it gets darker as they go through the connecting rooms."

Al considers this for a moment before responding. "I really like that idea, but some kids might have epilepsy."

I didn't even think of that. That's a really good point. Wow! He is so thoughtful.

"Good point. We could set up flashlights instead and the room still gets darker as you pass through."

He smiles. "Great!"

We return to work as the creepy music plays on from Al's phone. I hang up bits of caution tape around the room.

Al moves a table to the the center of the room momentarily so he can hang the sheets on the ceiling. There is a string connected to the ghosts' heads and Al dangles them from the ceiling using duct tape. He spreads them around the room, at the points of the backwards lightning bolt. I watch him as he kind of shakes as he hangs up the ghosts.

"You okay?" I ask. He turns to me and almost falls off the table.

"Yeah."

I set the skull down on the table and climb on top of the table. Al is still shaking lightly, almost shivering as if he's cold.

"Do you have a fear of heights?"

He brushes me off with a wave of his hand and a smile.

"Not really. It's not a big deal." I look at him and how at ease he suddenly becomes when I'm here to help.

I ignore his words and gently take the ghost from him. I accidentally brush his hands with mine. He doesn't seem to notice. Keeping our eyes locked, I reach up to hang the ghost. Al begins laughing. My eyebrows scrunch together. I follow his gaze and see that I'm too short to hang the ghost.

"Five four is an average height," I tell him. "How tall are you?"

"Six three." I stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and hangs the last ghost before jumping off the table. He stumbles a little, but regains his balance. He holds his hand out to me and I place mine in his and jump down too. I don't realize we're still holding hands until the _Halloween_ theme song ends and _Jaws_ begins.

I smile reassuringly and let the blush spread across my cheeks. I'm not as embarrassed as I might be if he wasn't blushing either.

I take the talking skull and place him by the end of the room, the way the students will file out. This is scary even for me.

Wait, no it's not. My heart is still running in my chest from touching Al. I guess I was more embarrassed than I thought. I spin on my heels to see if I can still see the blush on Al's cheeks, but he's facing away from me. He is stringing up a banner of dancing skeletons in front of the whiteboard.

We spend another half hour or so decorating the room. When we finish, we decide to walk down the hall to see how Christina and Matthew are doing.

The halls are heavily decorated too, but not with frightening things. There are laughing pumpkins and smiling witches and animated candy corn.

Room 120 is where Christina and Matthew are stationed. We step inside the dark room where Matthew tacks ratty, fake-bloody cloth to the wall.

"Hey Matthew," I say. He turns toward me and Al with a friendly smile.

"Hey Tris."

I quickly introduce Matthew and Al and ask where Christina is. Matthew opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by Christina jumping out from behind an overturned table.

I jump back and clutch Al's arm for support.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_?" Christina says, chuckling. "This is a haunted house. You're supposed to be scared."

"Your job is to scare other people, not your friends."

Matthew laughs.

"Don't act like you weren't going to wet your pants," Christina says. Matthew stops laughing.

"I wasn't and don't go around telling people I was. I don't need to be called Wetpants for the rest of the year."

Christina shakes her head with a smile. I notice her bright eyes shift between me and Al. I let go quickly and fold my arms across my chest.

Three times in one day. The heat floods my cheeks again and I take a few steps closer to Christina. Maybe distancing myself from Al will cut down on the awkwardness. He said must feel uncomfortable with this too.

I never used to be this way. I mean, I have personal space issues like everyone, but... I have never actually... I don't do this. I don't hold onto guys like I do Al. Maybe it's because he's a big teddy bear.

 _What am I saying? Maybe Christina's right, maybe there is something wrong with me._

Al is a very nice guy, and I like him a lot, but this is beginning to get a little awkward. He has to feel the same. I wouldn't want someone touching me all the time. But he did offer me his hand so I could get off the table.

 _No! What are you thinking? He was just being polite. That is who Al is. He's very polite and is certainly not interested in you like that. Not that I care._

Because I don't.


	12. Halloween Haunted House

**Some creepy elements for the haunted house are used, just a warning. This chapter is a little shorter, but the next one is one of my favorites. I think it's cute.**

Chapter Twelve

Monday, October 31st

School lasts the same amount of time as it usually does. The party/haunted house will take place after school. The least the teachers do is let everyone who is participating in the haunted house out twenty minutes early. Christina and I jump up and take all our stuff to Mr. Eaton's room. He is letting store our stuff here. He is going to lock up the room since it's not being used in the haunted house. As each new persons arrive, he tells us to go straight to the restroom to apply necessary makeup and fake blood.

All the girls crowd around in the bathroom to change into a plain white T-shirt and whatever pants we chose to bring. I brought my ratty pants, the pair my mom hates so much. I take a small amount of fake blood and smear it across my face. To make my outfit look even more realistic, Christina sprays my shirt.

The time draws near for everyone to get situated in our rooms. I scurry into mine and wait with Al. He smiles at my entrance. His face looks just as bloody as mine and his clothes have splotches of blood here and there. He looks like a dead lumberjack.

"Ready?" he whispers. I nod, returning his smile.

I lay down on one of the tables and wait for my victims. I mean, students. I don't see Al, so must be standing behind me somewhere.

As the other students are let into the room-once being told that they need to be quiet and respectful going through the rooms because it is rude to wake sleeping creatures-I try not to smile, for many reasons. One, it ruins my part in the haunted house. It's my job to jolt up and scream until the students scream in response. Two, I'm happy Al doesn't find the situation weird. The thing from Saturday. I don't want him to think I'm weird. I swear I'm not.

As I jump up and scare a bunch of juniors, I am reminded of how scared I was when Christina did that to me. Al had to know I was frightened. He is an understanding guy, I'm sure he's aware.

He's probably more than aware. Christina jumped out and screamed. Al isn't stupid, and he didn't react poorly when I grabbed onto him.

Did he try to comfort me? I don't recall.

 _No, dummy. You pushed yourself away. He didn't have time to comfort you._

Whatever. The point is, he's not upset. That's all that matters. We can still be friends. Besides, it was my fault. Maybe I need to learn to keep my hands to myself.

 _You're making too big a deal out of this, dorkwad. If he hasn't said anything, you're fine. And you only touched him a couple of times. They were mostly accidents. And he offered you his hand to help you. He doesn't care._

I need to focus on what I'm doing. I almost miss my cue to jump up.

The kids scream and murmur things to each other. I notice the murmurs and sniveling get louder as they walk behind me. I wonder what Al is doing that is so scary.

He can be intimidating if he wants. He is six foot three for goodness sake. He towers over half the student body. I may be one of the few people who are not frightened by this. No one else in our squad is afraid of him. In fact, I seem extra friendly.

 _Stop it! You're not extra friendly. Let. It. Go. No, Tris, don't start singing_ Frozen _. Think of a different song._

 _Oh, what's that Alicia Keys song?_

 _No one, no one, no one can get in the way of what I'm feeling. No one, no one, no one can get in the way of what I feel for you._

 _Why did you choose a love song, you idiot? Think of a Halloween song._

I start thinking the tune of the _X-Files._

I lay on the table for quite a while. I can only jump up every five minutes. Or maybe it's ten. Or two. I don't know. I don't have any concept of time in here.

When Christina sticks her head in, I know it's over. She tells us that was the last group and we are to go to the bathroom and wash our makeup and blood off.

I sit up slowly so as not to get a head rush. I angle my body to see what Al did to look so freaky. When I see him, I almost fall off the table. He stands perfectly still with a fake noose around his neck. He's tall enough and the rope is long enough not to concern me. I blink and exhale a breath of relief.

"Great job," I say. "You look awful." He laughs. "No, I mean you look great, but-"

"I understand. Great job, Tris!"

Al removes the rope from around his neck. He tosses it over his shoulder and it swings wildly behind him.

"Thanks. You too."

Together we walk out of the dark room, only following the light of the lone flashlight. His long legs carry him to the door first and he opens the door for me. I smile and exit the room. Al steps out behind me and leans against the wall of lockers casually. A moment later he straightens up. I wouldn't want the dial on a locker digging into my back either. Would it hurt him? He looks like the kind of guy that has a nice back. But I wouldn't know. I will never know.

"Great job kids." We look down the hall to find Mr. Eaton walking our way with a smile. "When you're done cleaning yourselves up, will you put the room back the way it was?"

"Of course," Al says.

Mr. Eaton congratulates us again on our job. I think he means to slap Al's back in a friendly way, but what Mr. Eaton doesn't see is Al wince.

Al crosses the hallway once our teacher has turned to the corner. He whispers, "he is surprisingly strong."

A memory surfaces from the first day of school. Will warning me to stay away from Mr. Eaton if the rumors about him being a child abuser are true. This isn't a sign that he is one by any means, but something else comes to mind. When Tobias showed up to volunteer, he stood quite a few feet away from his father. I believe abused people are very quiet and reserved, which Tobias certainly is. I'm not saying that Mr. Eaton is a child abuser, but that's what I'm thinking.

Al and I part briefly to wipe the fake blood from our faces. When we're clean, we go back inside to tidy up the room.

"Any plans for tonight?" I ask as I turn off the flashlight and put it in the box. Al is taking the ghosts down when he replies.

"No, I'll just be home alone."

"Why?"

"My parents are in Hawaii for an anniversary vacation, so I am home alone."

He doesn't seem upset by this, but I am. I don't know why, but I am offended by this. And then an idea sparks in my mind.

"You can come to my house!" He spins around quickly as he tosses the sheets in the box, he nearly misses.

"I don't know if your parents would like me staying at your house until Thursday. They might get a wrong impression of me."

"Well, at least come to my house for dinner."

"Thank you, Tris, for the offer, but I'll be okay."

"What are you having for dinner tonight?" He doesn't answer right away and he moves away from me. He mumbles something that sounds like 'ice cream.'

"Really. We'd love to have you for dinner. It's not a big deal. Please."

Al is about to protest, but I cut him off. "Humor me." He looks at me intently for a long time. He studies my expression. Nothing happens, but then he breaks out in a beautiful smile.

"All right. Thank you."

"Any time."

Al and I fix up the room nicely before heading out. By the time we get outside, it is dark out. We walk carefully across the street and down the sidewalks. Some of them need repairing, but other than that, we're both just kind of clumsy. I notice that Al trips over a lot of things, even if nothing's there. It's kind of endearing.

Al and I talk about how we think the haunted house went as we walk to my house. When we arrive, I stop and look at my watch. My family hasn't had dinner yet. Dad would usually be making it right about now, but they probably waited a while knowing I would be late.

"Stay here for a second," I say. Al nods and I walk up the walkway to the front door. I stick my key in and turn it.


	13. Meeting the Parents

Chapter Thirteen

I stick my head inside the door. My parents are sitting on the couch talking about work. Caleb is nowhere in sight, so he must be studying in his room. I glance around the house, well, as much as I can. I was right. Dad has started dinner in the kitchen already. I told them I'd be home around this time. Though the dining room table is not set yet.

"Beatrice," Mom says with a smile. "Come in."

"How was the haunted house?" Dad asks.

"It was great," I say, remaining where I am. "Can I have a friend over for dinner?"

Mom's eyebrows jump up to her hairline. "Now?" I nod. "Okay. Yes, sure." I smile and pull away. I shut the door behind me and turn to Al.

"Let's go." I turn back to reopen the front door. Before I can turn the knob, I feel Al's hand on my shoulder. I stop instantly and face him.

"I've never met your parents, or your brother." His voice is quiet with hints of anxiety. His eyes search mine for any signs of reassurance. I smile effortlessly as I look back into his alluring brown eyes.

"Everything will be fine," I say. "Don't worry. There's no need to be nervous." I wait for his glowing smile before I turn the doorknob.

We walk inside the toasty house. The combinations of lemongrass and sage mix with the lavender candles Mom must have lit in preparation in the two minutes I stood outside.

Mom stands in the living room, I can hear Dad in the kitchen, and Caleb is walking down the stairs. I catch his eye for a moment. At first I think he slyly winks at me for some reason, but it could have been a blink. Why would he wink at me and Al?

I shift my attention back to Mom who is pleasantly smiling, and with her hands clasped in front of her. I clear my throat quickly and introduce her to Al followed by my brother and my father when we walks into the room.

"This is my friend Al." My mother, the most pleasant of the four of us, walks forward to shake his hand, followed by my dad.

"It's nice to meet you, Al," Mom says.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Prior." I feel the edges of my lips twitch up. Al is always so polite and respectful. It is some of my favorite things about him.

"You can call me Natalie."

I almost fall over. I catch my footing and cling to Al's arm for support, blinking rapidly. She doesn't let my friends call her Natalie two seconds after meeting her. It never happens. Never. Al does give off good vibes though. I feel abnormally relaxed whenever he is around. I feel the stress and tension melt away like ice cream in the hot sun. I love being around him. It's odd though, no one makes me feel so calm.

The interaction between my father and Al snaps me out of my thoughts. They share a smile and a brief handshake, but he does not offer to be called Andrew. I'm not worried though, Mom was acting strange a few seconds ago.

"Where are your parents?" Caleb asks. I shoot him a look.

"They're in Hawaii," Al replies, "for an anniversary vacation." Caleb nods and Mom and Dad strike up a conversation about the Big Island.

A little later on, Mom sets the table. As she places the fifth plate on the table, I catch a wink from her too. What is up with people winking? It's so bizarre.

Oh, it's because I'm still grasping Al's arm. I let go, but her smile only grows wider. Mom is acting very peculiar. I raise an eyebrow sassily at her. She chuckles and sets a napkin next to each plate.

"Sorry about my weird family," I say. I don't bother with lowering my voice. They should know how odd they're acting.

Al shakes his head and says, "I like your family. They're nice. You're right, there's nothing for me to worry about." I smile and look down at my feet. I notice how close we're standing, so I take a few steps back.

 _What is with me lately?_

"My parents are weirder than this," Al says.

"Maybe I can meet them sometime." The words escape my mouth before I realize what I just said.

Al smiles. "They'd really like you." I grin back. I don't even know why.

"Beatrice, Al," Mom calls from the dining room. I back out of the room backwards so I can still face Al.

Wow, his eyes are a nice shade of brown. They're like the color of chocolate.

In the dining room the five places are set and Mom set it up so her, Dad, and Caleb sit across from me and Al. Usually Caleb and I sit across from our parents on an average evening. I feel like Mom is planning something. She's wearing her scheming-yet-thoroughly-pleased-smug expression. She's not good at hiding it.

"So, Al," Dad says, finishing his bite of chicken parmesan, "tell us about yourself." Al clears his throat.

"Well, I was born and raised in Chicago. I'm an only child. I like reading and writing. I'm a straight A student. My favorite classes are creative writing and biology, and I was thinking about environmental policy as a major."

My parents look thoroughly impressed.

Over dinner the five of us talk about school, mostly. What we're learning, how our classes are going, what assignments we have, any future projects, and subjects like that.

After dinner we all help clean up. Al doesn't stay much longer after that. He thanks me and my parents for having him for dinner. I walk him to the door and watch as he walks away. I sigh.

Behind me I hear my dad say, "him. I like him." I smile to myself and close and lock the door. I spin on the balls of my feet. My family is all smiling wickedly at me.

"Yeah. Uh... Me too. Why are you staring at me like that?"

"We just like him," Mom says playfully, "that's all." Her smile and her eyes are telling me more than her words are.

"I'm glad you like him," I say warily. "Why are you all staring at me like that? Seriously, it's creepy." Mom and Dad laugh.

"Sorry, honey," Dad says, "we don't mean to be creepy. We're just glad you found such a respectful guy to date."

"Oh, okay. Well that's- Wait. You think Al's my boyfriend?"

"He's not?" Mom asks with disappointment in her tone. Her smile falls. Dad appears somewhat sad and Caleb looks disbelieving. Have they lost it?

"No! We're just friends. I invited him because we're friends. You know, like the popular sitcom airing from 1994-2004? The Band of Skulls song featured in _The_ _Twilight Saga: New Moon!_ FRIENDS!"

My family is silent for a long time before they say anything.

"Well, I'm embarrassed," Mom says. I facepalm. So am I.

"Is that why you winked at me?"

"It looked like you were together," Caleb says defensively, "the way you held onto him."

"What have you done with my protective brother?"

"I'm still protective, but I like him so much I don't have to worry as much."

"Are you saying I've liked delinquents in the past?"

Mom and Dad's eyes bounce back and forth like Caleb are on opposite sides of a tennis match.

"No," Caleb says with a smile. "All I'm saying is that Al is very nice and I thought he was your boyfriend because you looked close. My mistake." I exhale through my nose slowly. I loosen my shoulders.

"It's not your fault," I mumble. "I'm sorry I got defensive." Caleb gives me a half-smile. I can't help but smile back. Mom and Dad grin too.

"If you ever want a boyfriend," Caleb starts, "may I suggest him?" I sigh, exasperated again.

"We're friends, that's all." Caleb raises his hands, palms out like he's surrendering.

"Besides," I say. "I thought girls were always supposed to date their brother's friends."

"You wouldn't want to date my friends." I raise an eyebrow, teasingly.

"Why?"

"Nicholas is dating Kathleen and Rick is gay. I don't think you'd have much luck there." Mom and Dad laugh. I ignore the three of them.

"I'm going to bed," I announce as I walk upstairs.

"You feeling okay, sweetie?" Mom says. "It's really early for bed."

I tell her I'm fine and continue on the path to my room. At the top of the stairs I hear Caleb say something like, "I think she got bit by the love bug."

Now why would he say that? I wait at the top of the stairs to listen to the rest of their conversation.

"Al is a very nice young man," Mom says. "I wouldn't complain if she wanted to date him."

"She's fifteen, Natalie," Dad reminds her.

"I didn't necessarily mean now," she replies. "I just meant in general. You have to admit Andrew that they would make a cute couple."

Dad sighs. Even though I can't see, I can tell he's staring at Mom.

"I will admit that, yes."

"She's totally into him," Caleb whispers, "but Beatrice is the only one who doesn't see it."

"That happens," Dad says. "Give her time."

Give me time? I'm totally into him? I roll my eyes and walk into my room, closing the door tightly behind me.

I was born into a family of incredibly intelligent people. Why are they acting so stupid?


	14. Ryder and Penny

Chapter Fourteen

As I leave psychology with Susan, I shrug on my brown jacket. It's chilly to say the least. I'm used to it though. The temperatures in Chicago greatly resemble those from Milwaukee. I think this is my new favorite jacket, but I would never tell Christina that. She would take all the credit for dragging me shopping and into the department store. Even though the shopping trip was my idea and I asked her to come along.

Susan and I reach the cafeteria and set our backpacks down by our seats. I reach into my bag to take out an apple. I sit back up and watch silently as my group of friends interact. Lynn fills Will in on what he missed from volunteering for the haunted house yesterday, Marlene and Christina make plans to go shopping this weekend, and Uriah and Susan chatter about some upcoming test. I look at Al and smile. He doesn't return my smile today, instead he looks nervous or worried.

"Tris, can I talk to you for a moment?" I agree and stand. I reach for my bag, but he tells me it won't take long. I take another bite of my apple and follow him outside of the cafeteria. On our way out, I think I see Christina smirking smugly.

"What's on your mind?" I ask. He is quiet for a while, walking down a fairly crowded hallway. He keeps walking, so I keep following.

"I need your advice on something, I don't know what to do." I stop walking and stare at him. "It's not serious or anything. Sorry. I need to stop starting conversations this way. It tends to freak people out." Oh, good. It's not a life or death situation or anything. Maybe I can help.

"What's on your mind?" I repeat.

"This friend of mine, Ryder, well, he has a crush on this girl in his c-chemistry class. This girl, Penny, is a real catch. She's really well-liked and she's smart and funny and sweet. He's really into her. Every time I see him all he does is play "Love Story." He can't get her out of his head."

I take a moment to absorb everything he said. "I don't see how that's a problem. That's great."

"He wants to ask her out, but he's afraid she might not like him in the same way. They're friends if that helps."

"I'm not good at giving dating advice, but I'll give it a go. How much does he like her?"

"All he does is think about her. He doesn't stop talking about her, his family and friends are annoyed by how much he talks about her. They encourage him to ask her out, but he's a really shy guy."

"I think-now this is just me-but I think if he likes her that much, he should do it. If his love for her is stronger than his fear of being rejected than he should absolutely go for it."

"He has anxiety," he answers quickly.

"Oh," I say, "that complicates things. How long have they been friends?"

"Um..." Al thinks about this for a moment. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Not too long."

"So there isn't much to lose. They can't be close enough to ruin the friendship if they haven't been friends for very long."

"I think they're very close friends," he interjects. "But that's just me. From my observations. Not that I'm extremely well-aware. They go to a different school. Ryder and Penny."

I get the feeling that Al is very nervous. I mean, he has been this entire conversation, but he calmed down for a moment. Now he's tense again. I hope I'm not stressing him out. I'm not giving very good answers, and he recalls things quicker than I can answer. It would help if I knew more about Ryder and Penny.

"Well, I think it's back to if he really likes her and his feelings override his fear. Sure, it must be nerve wracking to ask someone out, but how else are you going to do it?"

"He wants to do it in the easiest way possible."

"The only way she would say yes, is if he asks her face-to-face. It's impersonal to text or email or something like that."

"No, he plans on asking her in person, if he was going to, but my friend gets nervous easily."

I try to think about this in a different way. If I was asking someone out that I really liked, how would I do it? Well, it's different asking out guys than it is girls. If I were asking out a girl, what would I do? What would I like done to me?

"That's hard," I say. "If it were me, I would want it to be as thoughtful as possible. So maybe I should retract my earlier statement. It could be over text, as long as your friend is being sincere, which it sounds like he is."

I stop explaining my thought process for a second. Al looks very calm and happy in this moment. I smile at his distracted expression. He looks like he's thinking about something of utmost importance.

"I'm listening," he says. His eyes are still crowded with happiness and a hint of something else. This time I let the tiny blush spread.

"Um... Then he shouldn't have a problem."

Al and I retain our eye contact for a while. It seems like twenty minutes-in a good way. For some reason every time I look at his eyes, I find myself distracted. I lose my train of thought.

"That's good to know," Al says. He coughs and gives me a short smile. "Another question: they're our age, do you think they're too young to date?"

"If it seems okay with her parents and they're both ready, I think it will be okay."

"She's kind of shy too, what is the best way to ask out a shy person?" I shrug.

"I've never been asked for a date before," I admit. Al raises an eyebrow and smirks teasingly.

"That cannot be true."

"Actually no it's not. I was asked out once in eighth grade and I said no. I kind of had a kindergarten boyfriend, but that hardly counts."

"You did?" Al's smile is bright. He seems amused by this. "How did he ask you out?"

I start by smacking his arm and then I say, "Don't be sexist. I asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Sorry, you're right. You are very dauntless."

I laugh.

"Not half as dauntless as my younger go-get-em personality would have you believe."

Al is still smiling. "That's adorable. I'll just have to show up to your house and ask Natalie about this ex of yours." I roll my eyes.

"That's really strange. I mean, she never asks my friends to call her by her first name until they've known each other for years. Sometimes not even then."

Jokingly, Al raises an eyebrow seductively. "I feel very special then." I chuckle and we walk back to the cafeteria.

On our slow walk down the hall, we walk close together. We are close enough to brush up against each other. Our proximity reminds me of Cara and Matthew. Still no word on their status either, which is slightly disappointing.

Al stops by the large double doors and turns to look at me. He has that same look on his face that he did earlier. The dreamy eyes and slight smile that makes him appear younger.

"Thank you for the advice," he says. "I'll pass it along to Ryan. I mean Ryder. I have a friend named Ryan too." I chuckle and walk through the door he holds open for me.

The rest of lunch is like a regular day. We talk and exchange comments on random topics. When lunch ends, Al, Uriah, and I head off to gym.

Gym is just as horrendous as ever. He have to play floor hockey and I don't have either friend on my team. Instead I have the competitive, asshole types. One girl was so displeased with how her team was performing, she picked up the puck and slammed it into the goal. Okay, she tried to. Lucky for my team my wrist got in the way and it ricocheted back into the playing field. I look at my wrist and a bruise has already started forming.

I hate this forsaken class with a burning passion.

On our way back to the locker room after class finished, I caught up with Al and Uriah. They both look concerned that my wrist had changed from a red mark to a blue and brownish bruise.

"I'll take you to the nurse," Al offers.

"I should be fine, but thanks."

He did walk me toward the library though. His hands are rather cold, which he says is from poor circulation. He held my hand on the way to cool the warm tingling feeling my wrist gave off. The pain simmers away until he lets go, but he does make the effort to cool my wrist as long as possible. He walks me to my table and says goodbye to me and Christina.

"I hope your wrist feels better."

"Thank you."

After I watch him walk out of the library, Christina practically swings my chair around to look at me. Her eyes are wide and so is her smile.

"You were holding hands?"

"He was trying to help. I hurt my wrist in gym. He was making sure I was okay."

"That's so sweet! Aw! That's adorable! That's so cute."

"Yeah," I say. "He is cute."

"What!?" Her voice booms in my ears and our study hall monitor warns her to be quiet. She apologizes quickly and lowers her voice. "You think he's cute?"

"In a friendly way, you know." Christina's expression doesn't change. "I can acknowledge someone is good looking without wanting to date them. I think you're pretty, but I don't want to date you."

"You're as straight as a whistle."

I stare at her with narrowed eyebrows.

"That didn't even make sense," I say.

She ignores me and for the rest of class texts Will and is nearly dancing in her seat. I roll my eyes and get to work. I try to move my wrist as little as possible.

The bell rings at three and I stand and put my things in my bag carefully. I sling the backpack over my shoulder. When we reach the center hall, I wait in my usual spot for Caleb and Christina walks on. THe three of us don't usually walk home together because she likes to walk home with Will.

Caleb taps my shoulder and I follow him outside. Unfortunately Caleb has always been incredibly observant. He notices my wrist almost immediately.

"Goodness," he exclaims. "What happened to your wrist?"

"Gym accident," I explain. "I'm fine. It feels better than it did earlier."

"Did you go see the nurse?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine. Really Caleb, my wrist is fine."

Though it doesn't appear this way. Caleb frets all the way home until he takes some ice cubes from the tray and puts them in a baggie and tells me to hold it against the bruise.

"How did it happen?"

I explain the story and even add how Al's poor circulation helped the pain cease for a while.

"You're lucky to have him, huh?"

I think back to everything he has done for me all year. Standing up for me, holding doors open, just being generally helpful and friendly.

"I am."


	15. Losers Like Us

**I just want to remind you that you guys are the best readers ever! We're getting more Alis! I think I can start updating almost every day. I am currently writing chapter nineteen! The only day I can't post is this coming Friday. And to twivergent1: Thank you so much! That means so much to me!**

Chapter Fifteen

I didn't want to show my wrist to Mom and Dad, so I put my brown sweatshirt over my shirt and call it good. I knew over-sized sweatshirts would come in handy.

This morning, as I am getting my stuff ready, Caleb walks into my room.

"You know," I say, "there's this great new invention. It's called knocking. You should try it."

"Your door was open," he replies. He doesn't make eye contact, instead he carefully scrunches up the sleeve of my jacket to examine my injury. It looks worse than yesterday. The colors are more prominent and now there is a hint of yellow and a sickly green color.

"Will you please go see the nurse? If you're not going to tell Mom and Dad the least you can do is go see the school nurse. What if you fractured it?"

I laugh. The idea of fracturing my wrist because of a floor hockey accident is ridiculous. It's a bruise. I tell my brother not to worry too much. I wonder though, if I could sue this girl for assault. Does it count as assault?

"I'm your brother, how can I not worry? And just the other night you questioned my protectivity. You can't have it both ways Beatrice." I smirk and pick up my bag with my good hand and sling it over my shoulder. Luckily my dominant hand has been left unharmed.

Maybe I can just humor Caleb. I can walk toward the nurse's office and wait until he's gone and then go to class. Easy enough right?

Nope. As soon as we get to school, Caleb insists there is plenty of time to go see the nurse and get to class on time. He walks me there...

"Good news," Nurse Helena says after examining my injury, "there is no fracture, but you did severely bruise it. I recommend you apply heat to the bruise now, let the blood flow. You should be fine, though, Miss Prior."

I smile and thank her. Caleb and I walk out of the room and towards the end of the hall. I stop walking and face Caleb with an innocent look.

"See? I'm fine."

Caleb sighs and says, "I'm glad you don't have a fracture, but take care of your wrist, okay?" I nod.

Caleb says goodbye and heads upstairs to go to math. I make my way to history on the other side of the school. Before I reach the end of the hall, I see Al. He smiles and walks over to me.

"Good morning, Tris," he says. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How's your wrist? Is it any better?"

I gently remove my hand from my pocket and show him the discoloration. He doesn't appear surprised or disgusted in any way. He looks more worried than anything else.

"It kind of hurts, but the nurse said it was only a bruise. I didn't fracture it." I can feel it pulsating grossly though. That's disgusting.

"I'm glad you're not seriously injured." I smile and it takes a nanosecond before he mirrors my action.

"Aww," a voice croons. I do not want to deal with this right now. "You two are adorable." A blush spreads rapidly through my cheeks.

"Goodbye Peter," I say. I try not to let him get to me. I can't have two injured wrists now can I? I need my right one to write with. And I can't afford to get suspended for punching someone as hard as I can. Or worse. I can't have Al getting suspended for standing up for me. Whatever I do is completely my fault.

"No, really." I sigh and roll my eyes. Al tries to turn me away. "You two would make a cute couple. You could make it as losers."

I find myself squeezing Al's hand rather tightly. It takes me a few seconds to realize he's squeezing my hand rather tightly as well. We are stopping each other from fighting Peter. And it feeds into his teasing that we're a couple, which we're not.

Al leans down so his lips are close to my ear. "He's trying to get to you. Peter's the kind of person who picks fights with others and then blames them for starting it. Try not to let him bother you. Winter break is coming up next month and then we'll be Peter free for two weeks." I nod carefully.

"Fine," Peter says, "I'll leave you alone. One more thing."

We wait for him to resume, but he waits for us to respond. We don't. We remain silent.

"Use birth control. Don't make the same mistake as your parents."

I can feel Al's arms slide around my waist holding me back. It might be worth it to bruise my good hand and to get suspended if it means I can get one good shot in. But Peter smirks and walks in the direction of history. I try to follow him, but I am still being restrained.

"Tris," Al says calmly. "Stop." I struggle as hard as I can, but Al is strong. When Peter is no longer in sight, Al walks me outside.

Few students are not inside the school already. The tardy bell is going to ring in a few minutes. I'm going to be late, I have to get to class.

"Stop," Al repeats. "You can skip class just once. Do you really think you can walk in there and not punch Peter? Because Ms. Matthews will get you into more trouble for physical fights than she will for you missing one class."

Maybe I want to punch Peter. Wait, scratch that. I want to punch Peter.

Al has let go of me and I sprint to the double doors.

"Stay." That one word makes me stop. His voice has a little crack in it and I fear if I open the door the crack will spread into something worse. The bell rings and my good hand is still wrapped around the handle. I take a deep breath, exhale, and let go. I slowly walk back to Al. He waits with open arms and I walk into them. He gives me a loose hug.

"Aren't you upset?" I spit through clenched teeth. I don't sound half as angry out loud as I do in my head; my words are muffled by his shirt.

"I try not to be," he says. "All Peter wants is a reaction. By showing him that you're angry, you're giving him what he wants. I've learned to ignore him."

"I'm surprised _you_ didn't punch him." Al chuckles softly.

"I don't like violence. I wouldn't punch him even when I want to."

"Like now?"

Al is quiet for a little while. He squeezes me closer to his chest. I take deep breaths. Inhaling the sweet combination of sage and lemongrass. The anger still resides in my chest, but it fades away the longer Al holds me.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Like now."

* * *

I decide to go to class after all. Al argued with me about it for a while, but in the end we thought it was better for me to go. It would show Peter how unaffected I am.

When I walk into class, a stunned look crosses his face. He didn't expect my recovery to be so quick. But he composes himself. I ignore him and take my seat just as the tardy bell rings.

Today we are being quizzed on the Revolutionary War and everything we learned about it in the past unit.

When class ends, Peter says, "Where's your boyfriend?" He is still sitting at his desk. Will and Christina wait to see what I do cautiously. I lean in dangerously close to Peter, to make sure he gets the message. I lower my voice to appear scarier.

"If you ever insult Al again, I will voluntarily and willingly break my hand against your face. Okay?"

"Your boyfriend means a lot to you, doesn't he?" There's no use fighting him now.

"Yes. Now run along before I decide waiting for your next insult isn't good enough."

Will and Christina stare at me with wide eyes, like I've lost my mind. I don't care if they think I'm crazy. I feel slightly better knowing that I attempted to stand up for Al like he did for me.


	16. Secretly Admiring

Chapter Sixteen

I don't bother telling Al about my threat to Peter. It's not worth it. Al would just worry and freak out about Peter coming to stab me in the eye while I sleep. To be frank, I forgot that Christina had told me that. All Peter is is a psychotic asshole who makes empty threats. He never got revenge on Al for standing up for me. I briefly considered his "revenge" being his comment yesterday, but I highly doubt it. He threatened Al two months ago and his comment was just a mean thing to say to get on our nerves. Peter must have a really poor self-image if he tries to put others down.

In writing this morning, Ms. Reyes has us take out our journals and write about a person we admire in great detail. Okay. I think I can do that. She gives us a checklist of things to include: 1) personality 1a) strengths 1b) weaknesses 2) physical description (include age) 3) happy memory with that person 4) things you want to remember about this person.

"I think it would be nice," Ms. Reyes says, "to look back on this journal entry in twenty years from now and remember this person exactly how they are now. If you keep in touch with this person and you're still close, you can see how your relationship has grown, or maybe if you're not close in the future, you can see how you've grown as a person and how your life has developed. Of course this person you admire does not have to be living. If that's the case, this can be something to look back on to remind you of them."

My problem is there are so many people I admire. Who should I write about? My mother? My father? My brother? Sarah? Any of the new friends I've made? My goldfish that lived for three months when I was five-Freckles.

I sigh. I guess I'll just start writing and see what happens, see who I write about. All these people have similar personalities, so I'll see where my subconscious takes me.

 _What a beautiful person they are on the inside and the out. So sweet and loving and always a fun person to be around. I can always laugh with them. When I'm upset, they always make me happy. Sometimes I feel like there are days I can't get on without them. He is constantly happy and loves spending time with me as much as I love spending time with him. He is really funny and never fails to make me laugh. He is such a warm and friendly person. He makes me wish there were more people like him the world. If there were, I wouldn't be so terrified that the world will end in flames. I don't know how else to describe him other than he is an angel sent from heaven meant to keep me surging forward on the path I am meant to follow. Oh, and he's smart too!_

 _His strengths include: his kindness and unfailing ability to help and take care of others. He has brought me so much joy just by being himself and that is enough. His weaknesses... Does he have any? I'm sure he does, but I must be blind to them. I'm scraping through memories to find some flaw because everyone has them, even my parents, who are some of the kindest people I know. I don't know. Maybe I'll come back to this paragraph._

I leave myself the rest of the page in case I think of some weakness later.

 _He has to be around my age, a few months older I'm assuming. I'm the youngest person in my grade. I was born on November 15, 2000. I don't know why my parents thought it would be better for Caleb and I to be in the same grade. He could have given me a heads up about some of the work before I got around to doing it. (Caleb was born in January 2000.) I believe I heard someone mention his birthday is February 8th._

 _He is a very big person; no, I don't mean heavy. He's a giant compared to me. He's almost a foot taller. He has dark brown eyes, which match the color of my favorite jacket. He's also very broad. He looks like he would be very intimidating, but he's really not. He can be clumsy, but it's endearing. He's very strong as well. He can easily hold me back with one hand, not that I weigh a ton. I don't pay much attention to how he looks, honestly, because it's his personality that matters to me. He's not bad looking. I think he's cute._

 _A good memory of this person? There are too many to choose. I felt happy when he stood up for me against Peter. The next day when Christina told me that Peter seemed like a whack-job, I felt even more special. He_ did _risk his life to protect me. And he thinks_ I'm _dauntless. I really like the moments when we have book talks. We'll talk about whatever books we have in common and sometimes debate certain issues. The best part about those is how he respects my opinion and doesn't tell me I'm stupid or wrong for thinking differently than him (yes, that has actually happened to me. I haven't kept in contact with that girl since... last year I guess it was. Freshman year. I will say moving to Chicago has its perks). I love writing class with him! He writes so eloquently and I love hearing him talk. He has a really beautiful voice too._

 _Things I want to remember about him? There is nothing I want to forget._

 _There is nothing I_ can _forget._

Ms. Reyes calls time. I look up at the clock on the closest wall. We have been writing for thirty minutes. Next to me, Al is finishing up a few sentences. His hand scribbles across the page rapidly. I admire his determination.

Ms. Reyes agrees to give the class five more minutes to finish up their thoughts. Al still throws words on the page at the pace of a speeding bullet. I smile and review what I wrote. I just wrote whatever came to mind without thinking about who I was writing about.

Reading my own writing has always been a horrifying experience, but I need to understand who I wrote about.

Skimming the page, the words tell me I wrote about Al. How I wrote his personality and his physical description. Wait-did I call him cute? Really? Of course, it's like I said to Christina the other day. I can acknowledge someone's beauty without being attracted to them. Of course. No, I don't have a crush on Al, he's too good of a friend.

Time runs out for the kids finishing up and Ms. Reyes asks us to share in our table groups something, like a section, of what we wrote. Or if it's too personal, we can share who it's about.

"Who did you write about?" I ask. I don't want to go first and I'm curious to see who Al wrote about. I know he won't want to share his whole prompt, let alone a section.

"Um. My mom," he answers with difficulty.

"Hey, me too!"

It's the easiest answer. And, again, I don't want to make the situation awkward by telling him he was the one I wrote about. Though he might find it flattering. Oh, well. Too late now. But then if I told him I wrote about him, he'd want to hear what I wrote about him and if I deny him that then he's going to wonder why and I can't really let him read what I wrote. It would be humiliating for all of us.


	17. Caleb at Lunch

**A/N: Once again, thank you all so much for being so incredibly awesome! I have planned out what I want the rest of the story to be like and that means there are a total of twenty chapters. Yes, sadly, this story will end soon, but it doesn't mean that this universe has to end. Check out my page to take a poll on who I should write my next story about! If you are a guest reviewer and/or don't have an account feel free to post your opinion in the review section if you'd like. I will take all votes into consideration and the story(ies) with the majority of the votes, wins! Also if there is a person or persons that I didn't mention that you want me to write a story about, please let me know. I would love to hear what you say! If you are going to send me your opinions via review, you can still look on my page for the options I gave. I think it says so on the poll, but please only vote for three. I will close the poll on June 30th at noon pacific time in the U.S.**

Chapter Seventeen

Tuesday, November 15th

Upon my wishes no one bought me anything for my birthday. Susan did bake cookies for the occasion, but claimed she brought them for everyone on a day she "had no idea" was my birthday. It's still sweet and the cookies are delicious.

The only wish I was granted for my birthday was that Caleb finally come sit with us at lunch. When he walks into the cafeteria, he carries something wrapped in a napkin. He places it in front of me as he sits. He gently squeezes my shoulders.

"Happy birthday," he says. "Again. How's my favorite sister?"

I roll my eyes and unwrap the napkin from around whatever thing he put in front of me. Peeling back the napkin carefully, I see he brought me a cupcake. It reads, 'BLP' as well as '11/15/00.'

"I told you not to get me anything," I remind him. He smiles innocently.

"It's from Mom. She gave it to me to hold onto until lunch."

"Oh," I tease, "so you weren't going to visit me at lunch because _I_ asked you to, but because Mom asked you to?"

"Actually, she heard you ask me and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get your cupcake to you. If I had declined your offer, selfishly, then you would have received it after school."

I smile and playfully punch his arm. He rolls his eyes with a sassy smirk and looks around at the table.

"Oh, everyone, this is my brother Caleb. Caleb this is Christina, Will, Marlene, Uriah, Lynn, and Susan. You already know Al." Everyone shares a brief hello, but most everyone's eyes fall on me again. Uriah's eyes fall on my cupcake, though.

"What does the 'L' stand for?"

"Laura. I have such an old fashioned name. Beatrice Laura Prior."

"I have an old fashioned name too," Al says. I smile. By now this is kind of a joke between us. School is filled with bullies, and so is the non-academic world. Beatrice and Albert. In fact, we actually spent time investigating this, Juanita dates back to the 1800s, that's as far as our research got. Next time she makes fun of my name, I want to point that out to her, but then Al made a good point that she wouldn't care and would continue to bully me.

Glancing at my brother, his eyebrows are scrunched together. He doesn't understand the inside joke, which makes sense because it is an inside joke. Only between me and Al. My brother looks across me to look at Christina. I try to subtly look at her, but I'm too slow to catch her reaction.

I unfold the cupcake from it's wrapper and take a bite out of it. The frosting smears across my lips and I lick it off. It's a really good cupcake, I'll have to thank Mom later.

"Tris," Al starts, "you have frosting on the tip of your nose."

Hmm. If I scrunch up my nose, I can kind of see it. I pull the sleeve of my shirt down over my palm and wipe it away. I smile, looking up at him.

"Thanks."

A silence overcomes the group of us. I look around at everyone else who is munching on a second cookie. When my eyes gloss over Al's I feel a smile coming on, but bite my lip instead.

"Wonderful cookies, Susan," Caleb says. "Did you make them yourself?"

"Oh, yes! I found an old recipe of the family's and thought I'd try it out. My father and brother were very impressed." Susan smiles her usual happy smile. She is one of the most optimistic people I know. I don't know how she does it, but I admire that quality in her. "Oh! My brother wishes you a happy birthday, Tris, once I explained why I was making cookies."

"Why, tell your brother thank you."

Another silence spreads over us like butter. Mm, butter. I must be hungry. I lick my lips again, hoping there was a touch of frosting I missed. Alas, there is none.

"So you two know each other?" Christina asks, indicating Caleb and Al.

"Yes," Caleb replies. "Al came over to our house for dinner a couple weeks ago."

Christina sucks in her cheeks and nods. Then she puffs out her cheeks and continues nodding.

"Interesting," she says. I scan the faces of the rest of my group of friends.

Marlene has begun tapping her foot impatiently, Lynn side eyes Uriah with a smirk, Susan smiles into the rest of her half eaten cookie, Christina looks like she's trying to restrain herself from something, and Will looks like he's going to fall out of his chair, if it wasn't for the tight grip he has on the blue plastic chair. Al and Caleb look at each other like they're having some kind of staring contest.

I clear my throat to break all concentration and nervousness that inhabits the table. Everyone looks back at me in unison, like they rehearsed this.

Now thinking about it, I feel like I'm in a really bad sitcom or reality TV show. _The Real Students of Lake View._

"How does it feel to be sixteen?" Marlene asks.

"I don't feel much different, to be honest. How does it feel to almost be seventeen?" Marlene chuckles nervously.

"Seventeen isn't a big deal."

A third silence.

"You know what," Uriah says. "We should sing 'Happy Birthday.'"

I protest heavily against the idea. It's just some birthday. It's just me. It's just my birthday. I don't need people to sing for me. It's a very nice thought, but it is highly unnecessary.

"Either we do it now," Uriah says, "or I will convince Max to let us sing to you while we do warm ups in gym. It's your day, so it's your choice."

Some choice. I decide to let them do it now. I don't need any more crap from Peter this month. This _year,_ really.

Uriah counts everyone off and they start singing. I have to bury my face in my arms to keep from exposing my blush. I really like Uriah's and Christina's and Susan's voices. My brother isn't terrible, but I've grown up listening to him sing Mariah Carey in the shower, so I'm more dulled to his sound than the others.

"Thanks," I mumble. "Now if you tell Max that it's my birthday, I will kick you."

"That's it?" Uriah says. "You're not gonna finish that?"

"I'm not good at threats, okay?"

The others laugh.

"Oh, really quickly," Caleb says, taking out his phone. "I want to take a picture of you guys individually with Beatrice."

I think this is a slightly odd request, but okay. I pose in separate pictures with all my friends as the bell rings. I wait for Uriah and Al.

When school ends, Caleb and I walk home.

"Did you have a good day?" Caleb asks briskly. "How were your classes? Do you like in Al in more than a friendly way? Are you excited to open your presents when we get home? I think Dad is making your favorite for dinner. Why wouldn't he? It's your birthday."

I stop mid-step. "What did you just ask me?"

"Are you excited to open your presents?"

"Before that."

"Did you have good day?"

"After that."

"How were your classes?"

"After that. Did you ask me if I like Al?"

"I'm a curious person. I was only wondering. What's wrong with that? Curiosity. I like learning things." I slap his arm.

"I don't like him that way. I told you that. We're friends and that's all it is." By now, Caleb is getting more fed up. There is a fire lighting up his green eyes.

"Beatrice, how are your eyes? Can you see me from where we're standing?"

I sigh angrily and say, "Yes, Caleb, I can see fine. Why?"

"Because you're sure acting like you're blind! I didn't want to tell you this because it's not my place. But are you really that oblivious? Do you not see how in love with you Al is?"

Al is not in love with me. And I tell my insane brother that.

"You may not know this, but I have science with Lynn. She tells me how you two act around each other, how you stick up for each other. The way you act around each other is certainly not how friends would act around each other. You're really intelligent, Beatrice, why don't you see this?"

In some attempt to get me to understand, Caleb whips out his phone. "I knew you would call me crazy. That's why I had you take those pictures with your friends, so you could understand. Describe how you look in each of these photos."

The first one is me and Christina. I'm smiling, like I usually do in pictures with my friends. I'm smiling in all of these pictures. There is no difference in my appearance from my picture with Christina to my picture with Will or Marlene or the others.

"They're all the same," I say. Caleb shakes his head.

"But they're not." His voice is calmer, less agitated. "In the picture with Al, you lean against him. And unlike the others, you don't smile with your mouth. You smile with your eyes."

I take a close look at the picture with Al. I do look happier, like it's a more genuine happiness.

"Do you ever wonder why you like being around him so much? Or why you stand so close together? Or why you touch each other on accident?"

 _Is he a fucking mind reader?_

"Because you like him just as much as he likes you."

"You're being ridiculous," I say and pout off towards our house without another word.

A memory catches my attention as we're crossing the clear backstreet. When he wanted to talk to me about his friends. I should've realized it then. You see it in all the TV shows. He wasn't talking about Ryder and Penny. Ryder and Penny don't exist. _We_ are Ryder and Penny. He wanted to see how I wanted to be asked out. Of course he was talking about himself.

Ryder and Penny? That should have been obvious to me. Our last names start with R and P.

I am overcome by the realization that Al _does_ think of me in a romantic way. I nearly fall from tripping over my own feet. Luckily Caleb catches me and helps me stand.

"You okay?" I slowly nod. Caleb helps me walk to the front door before letting go of my arm and unlocking the door.

"I recommend if you don't want to explain what's going on to Mom and Dad, you recompose yourself quickly."

I nod again and straighten my posture and lock my knees slightly, just so I don't collapse on the front porch.


	18. Looking Differently

**This chapter is shorter because of my terrible case of writer's block, but the next ones will be longer.**

Chapter Eighteen

All throughout History and English I think about what Caleb said. I think about every nice thing Al has said to me and all the wonderful things he's done for me. It's true, yet in a way I think Caleb is wrong. Friends should constantly do the things for each other that Al and I do, but it's the way he does it that _does_ come across as more of a crush than just a platonic relationship.

In English I don't even remember what I read out loud and I didn't comprehend what Will, Edward, and Rita read. I wasn't able to pay attention to Mr. Eaton. He didn't seem as upset by my blatant lack of concentration as Ms. Matthews had been, but she didn't call me out on it. She kept giving me warning glances though.

In both classes, Will didn't say anything. He made the smallest of small talk he could. He and Christina asked me how the rest of my birthday was and how I was doing this morning.

When English ends and it's time for lunch, I try not to run to the cafeteria. I keep pace with Will and we talk about _A Raisin in the Sun._ Will goes on about how selfish Walter is, but I have to admit I'm not really paying attention.

At our table, everyone sits in the same seat they always have. I am in between Christina and Susan. When everybody arrives, they start asking me about my birthday and what the rest of my day was like.

"Did you get any good presents?" Uriah asks with a childish grin. Lynn rolls her eyes and smacks his shoulder. Marlene sighs.

"Birthdays are not about the presents," Marlene says.

"What are you?" Lynn says. "Twelve?"

"And a half," Uriah confirms.

"Yeah," I say. "I got useful things."

"Were they things you asked for," he continues, "because my grandma once bought me underwear and gave me a birthday card for the wrong age. And there was no money inside."

I chuckle softly and say, "Yeah, they were things I wanted."

By accident, I catch Al's eye. His eyes are such an inviting color. And his smile is so beautiful.

I vaguely recall what I wrote in writing last class. Every word of my subconscious is true. He is the sun in the sky and when the sun goes down, he is the stars. I cannot find a single thing not right about him. He is perfect.

That annoying song by Carly Rae Jepson pops into my head. Not _Call Me Maybe,_ though that also fits the bill, but _I Really Like You._

He is really cute and so sweet! And my family approves of him already. They almost seem encouraging of a romantic relationship between us.

But my problem is that I don't have a clue about what to do next. Should I tell him I like him? Should I not? What do I do?

Math is an endless bore. And we changed seats so I can't sit with Myra and Jamie anymore. I don't sit with Marlene either. I don't even bother to learn the names of the new kids, but they're both boys so that means that I won't be able to concentrate with them jabbering on about girls and making offensive comments.

I notice that I draw mini hearts with an A and a T inside on the majority of my paper. I have to erase so many of my little doodles, I need to buy a new eraser.

When it comes to biology, I am no longer sitting next to Christina, but luckily we are finishing up a lab today and I can work _near_ Christina.

"Do you remember the notes we passed back and forth in History a couple of months ago?" I whisper as I set my worksheet down next to hers. I lean against the lab table and clumsily put my goggles over my eyes and pull my hair back into a sloppy ponytail.

"Yeah," she says, "what about it?"

"I know who I like."

When I explain everything to her in great detail from the very beginning, Christina follows along and hangs onto my every word. Telling her about yesterday on my way home from school, she almost drops the petri dish.

"Well, that's fantastic! I just want you to know that Will and I have been rooting for you guys."

I shake my head with a tired smirk. I can and cannot believe they would ship us. I have been shipped with other guys before-I try not to think about English last year-and it's awkward, yet this is kind of relieving.

"We also think that may be another reason why Lynn is so bitter. You're another person to get a happy ending before her."

"It's not an ending per se, but it's a... Chapter."

"Well, each chapter is closer to the end of a book."

"She wouldn't like being set up, would she?"

"Absolutely not," Christina says with a smile. "Who are you thinking of?"

"Jamie McDonald."

Christina breaks out into a wicked grin. Her only reply is, "yes."

"Maybe if she opens her eyes, she can get a happy chapter too," Chris adds.

I smile at nothing in particular, but today seems like a good day.


	19. Brown and Blue

Chapter Nineteen

Monday, December 5th

Caleb and I are trudging to school. It is freezing outside. I am currently wearing a tank top under a long sleeved shirt under my favorite jacket. My jeans don't retain heat and my socks are thick enough to keep a little heat, but thin enough to feel the chilling breeze on my feet.

I hug my jacket closer to my body. It works a little bit to shield me from the wind.

"You certainly love that jacket," Caleb says.

"I do," I say.

We haven't even made it to the end of the street before I can practically see ice forming on the sidewalk. I am curious as to why it isn't snowing, not that it would make a difference. I'm used to so much snow school has not been cancelled, but we're twenty days away from Christmas.

Oh, goodness. It is twenty days until Christmas. I need to get shopping! I need to help Mom bake cookies, I have to help her make fudge, I have a lot to do. It's almost the end of the first semester, which scares me. But what scares me even more is that it is twenty days until Christmas and that means Mom and Dad are going to start their Christmas Movie Marathon.

Every holiday season, we watch a slew of Christmas movies we can't go the season without watching. When I was five, I was excited. Now a days I think it's more for my parents. They might be trying to hold onto my and Caleb's childhoods before we graduate from high school and start college.

There are some movies we watch that are still cute, like _A Year Without a Santa Claus_ or the animated _How the Grinch Stole Christmas,_ but there are some movies I think that are abused. There are some movies- _A Very Brady Christmas_ -that someone makes us watch every year and we can't get away without watching it, yes I'm looking at you Mom.

But that's beside the point.

I shiver as we walk down the next street. It's so cold I can see my breath form a cloud and waft off into the grey sky.

"Do you remember the sock?" I say.

Caleb throws his head back and laughs. I laugh at the memories too. It was really ridiculous, but they were good memories from Milwaukee.

When Caleb and I would walk home from school in Milwaukee and it was snowing, we were always cold, no matter how many layers we had on. Once Caleb had misplaced his mittens. He thought they were in his coat, but it turns out he grabbed a sock instead. I tried not to laugh at his misfortune because I knew karma would come around to bite me in the ass. But as it turns out the sock kept his hands warmer than the mittens would have. Sometimes, when I forgot my mittens (my karma) and Caleb had his, he would offer me the sock. I was grateful, but my fingers still turned purple.

"How can I forget?" Caleb says.

Oh, we have a lot good memories. And I know I'm getting ahead of myself, but I am going to miss him when I go off to college, unless we go to the same college. That is highly unlikely though. Caleb could get a full ride scholarship anywhere just by walking in straight line with a book on his head. Unfortunately my equilibrium isn't as great.

"Remember that one time that Grandma was supposed to pick us up because we got out early on an unexpected day, and she forgot where to meet us?" I nod. "You refused my gloves because you thought she'd be coming soon, and by the time she got to the right place, your fingers were purple and were trembling."

"Yeah," I say bitterly. I made sure to tell Grandma where to pick us up. We waited for nearly fifteen minutes in the snow. I wasn't pleased, but couldn't show that.

"You were good at hiding your emotions," Caleb says. "You still kind of are."

I kind of have to be, with so many idiot people in the world, let alone in my school.

"Speaking of emotions," Caleb starts anxiously, "are you going to tell Al how you feel?"

The moment the words leave his mouth, I stop in my tracks. Do I want to date Al? Yes. Have I talked to him about it? No. Has he asked me out like he said Ryder was going to do? No. Maybe he isn't into me after all. Even the thought makes my heart plummet into my stomach uneasily.

"Uh... I don't know. I really like him, but..."

"What's stopping you?" Caleb asks as he stops walking and turns to stand next to me. "You like him, he likes you... You must be nervous because he hasn't said anything to you."

 _He_ is _a fucking mind reader! I knew it!_

"But you have to remember, Beatrice, that Al is very shy. He's afraid of rejection. Everyone is. Just because he hasn't asked you out, doesn't mean he doesn't like you. He's nervous and he doesn't know you like him."

"I'm just as nervous as him," I say.

"I know and I know that it's scary for you to put your feelings out there, but if you want a relationship with him, which I highly recommend, you can't wait for him to do everything. Relationships don't work if they're one-sided, one person can't do everything by themselves, both parties have to be involved."

I guess he has a point. I hate it when Caleb's right, which is the overwhelming majority of the time. I didn't know he majored in emotions with a minor in mind reading. I will admit, I am jealous of this.

"What about polyamorous couples?"

"Same rules apply. All parties have to be involved. Stop trying to shift the conversation."

"I'm not."

"You're not into polyamorous relationships."

"I'm just trying to be inclusive of everyone," I say. Caleb sighs and continues talking about my situation.

"That's very sweet, but that's not what we're talking about. What I'm trying to say is, if you want a relationship with Al that goes beyond the usual platonic terms, then you need to say something, because he probably thinks you only think of him as a friend. I can't stress this enough."

I give myself a little time to let the words sink in properly. He's right. And what was it that I was saying to Al last month? Something like if your feelings for someone override your fear of getting rejected then you should ask them out.

People deal with fear differently. It could take one person longer to get over their fear of spiders than it could another person. It depends how deep is fear lies.

 _Just because he hasn't asked you out doesn't mean his fear of being rejected is stronger than his feelings for you, it means he wants to make sure of your feelings first._

Caleb's right.

"Winter break is coming up," Caleb says. "Do you want to not see Al for a whole two weeks and he doesn't understand how you feel?" Caleb's serious expression turns into a playful smirk. "Maybe he's going to California for Christmas to visit family and at the LAX airport, he meets a beautiful-"

"Don't tease me like that!" I shout. I punch his arm as hard as I can. He stumbles back and the smirk is wiped off his face.

"Then tell him. We're almost to school, you have writing today. If you chicken out, you have lunch, and gym. You gotta do it Beatrice."

I sigh and walk with him the rest of the way to school.

Once I get to writing, I have pep talked myself up enough to do it and if I don't do it, then I probably never will. My heart races in anticipation. When Al walks into class and sits down next to me, my heart stops.

"How are you?" he asks kindly. I smile as he removes his scarf and jacket. His scarf is blue.

I get it. I finally understand. On the first day of writing, we went around the room and said our name and our favorite color. He said his was blue. I said I didn't know what mine was.

My favorite color, as of September eighth, is brown. A dark brown, like a Little Debbie's chocolate cupcake. The color of Al's eyes, and his favorite color is blue because that is the color my eyes are.

"I'm great, how are you?"

"I'm wonderful!"

I look into his dark eyes and smile. There is no use hiding it now, is there?

"You have a beautiful smile. I'm glad that you are, don't get me wrong and I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you smiling?"

I can hear my heart in my ears. I can feel it in my stomach.

I open my mouth just as the bell rings.

* * *

 **Sorry to leave you guys with a cliffhanger ;) ... You'll just have to read the epilogue to find out if Tris is** _ **dauntless**_ **enough to tell Al how she feels. Do you think she'll tell him or do you think she'll postpone it?**


	20. Epilogue

**Brief reminder that on June 30th the poll on my profile page will be closed. I have also decided that if you are voting via review that I will not accept votes after June 30th at noon pacific time in the U.S.**

 **Also thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it really means a lot to me! I hope this story has been entertaining. I had a lot of fun writing it. After I have the results of the poll, I will make an announcement on here on June 30th with the winner(s) of the "contest."**

 **Lastly, a huge thanks to Elizabeth who wanted an Alis story.** **Without her encouragement, I might not have gotten around to writing this.**

Chapter Twenty/Epilogue

March 2, 2019

"I'm trying to compare the schools," Al says, "and majors and every other aspect there is when it comes to choosing a college."

Al is sitting on the couch in the living room. He has his phone in one hand and mine in the other literally trying to compare colleges. It still amazes me how adorable he is. He never fails to make me smile.

"You're doing great," I say as I start digging around in my purse. "If you need help, I'm sitting right next to you." He smiles but ultimately ignores me.

I keep digging around. I know I put them in here somewhere. Mom reminded me before I left the house. Please tell me I didn't leave them at-

Ah, here they are.

"My mom sent me over here with cookies, if you want a distraction." I pull the baggie full of cookies out and hold it out to him.

I take one out for myself and bite into it. They are still warm. I can feel the chocolate chips melt on my tongue as I continue eating. I think my mom only packed me a few knowing I'd eat them all and Al wouldn't get any. And if it wasn't Al, that wouldn't stop me from eating all of them.

"I already have a great distraction," Al says with a smirk and a wink, "but I would love a cookie." He sets his phone down to take one. He is able to stuff three fourths of it in his mouth at once. I shake my head and take a chunk out of my second cookie.

From upstairs, I hear heels click on the wooden staircase indicating Al's mom is coming downstairs. I like Al's parents. I instantly liked Lyle, but Aleena was and still is a tad... Odd. I know Lyle thinks I'm cool, he's very honest, just like his wife.

Al looks a lot like his dad and barely anything like his mom, but he does have her eyes.

"Hello Al, Tris," she says entering the room. She is slipping on her jacket and getting ready to go somewhere, obviously.

"Hey Mom," Al says.

I smile pleasantly and say, "Hi Aleena." I don't know how much Aleena likes me, but she did ask me to call her by her first name. I think she only got that idea though after Al made innocent mention that he calls my mom Natalie.

"Good luck with the college hunt," she says as she walks out the door. She doesn't wait for our thanks.

Al and I are trying to find a college to go to that has a good program for business and a good program for biology. After our sophomore year ended, Al discovered his love for biology-especially compared to chemistry-and wants to do something in that field. I think it will be a good thing for both of us. We've both made good decisions in the past few years.

As it turns out, I think I made a good choice that one day, the one where Caleb advised me to to tell Al how I feel. I completely chickened out. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too nervous. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but the ideas I had in the next ten minutes were not decent. Over the weekend I had an idea. I was going to do it on Monday, but Monday's are intimidating enough as it is, so Tuesday it was. We had a few days before winter break.

*December 13, 2016*

"Hey," I say walking into writing. Al looks up and smiles at me.

"Hi." I take off my coat and place it on the back of my chair. I unravel the scarf from my neck and take my gloves off. I sit down in my usual seat and take out my notebook.

"How are Ryder and Penny?" I ask. I wait for his reaction. It takes him a while before the words come out of his mouth.

"They're good," he says nervously.

"Has Ryder asked out Penny yet?" He shakes his head and looks away.

 _Just do it, Tris. Don't be a coward._ "Would you like to come over for dinner again, sometime?"

"Really?" I have caught his attention. I nod and smile. My plan is working. Be casual and he won't freak out. If I stay calm, then I won't freak out. It's a win-win.

"Who said Penny can't ask out Ryder? Besides, she's done it before-with a different guy-hasn't she?"

Al smiles. "Yeah she has. Her kindergarten boyfriend."

"If she's dauntless enough to do it at six, then why not sixteen?" Al blushes. "Or if Ryder prefers, him and Penny can go alone. She's fine with either, but it wouldn't really be a date if her family was there."

"Does her family approve of this?" he says with a slight tone of teasing.

"Definitely."

*March 2, 2019*

I thought the subtle path was the best way to go. Bring up something he knows we talked about and in fact, brought up himself. It went over well and our first date was that Friday. Of course Dad wanted to chaperone, and Mom said no. Though she did suggest a double date.

"It's not that we don't trust you, Beatrice," she said, "you're very responsible and so is Al, but... Sixteen year olds aren't good at controlling their hormones." I nearly died when she said that. I didn't tell Al _that_ , I just said my parents would prefer we weren't alone. He agreed to these terms without an argument. So, technically, my first date was kind of a double date with Caleb and Susan. _That wasn't awkward at all._

"How about this one?" Al's words snap me back into the present.

He shows me one of the colleges we were looking at. I examine its website more thoroughly.

"I like it," I say. "As long as we're together, I don't care where we go."

Al smiles and gently touches his lips to mine.

"I don't either." He sets my phone down next to him and I put his on the small table next to me. I lean into his side and he wraps his arm around me and I lean my head on his shoulder.

I had never thought about it much before sophomore year, but brown and blue really do compliment each other.


	21. Sequels and Spin Offs

**Hi guys! Thank you so much supporting this story and telling me how much you love it. It means so much to me and that's why I wanted to write the sequel and spin off for you.**

 **The winners of the poll are *drum roll***

 **Tris and Al (of course. I was going to write a sequel about them regardless of the votes. I had planned on a sequel when I wrote chapter five.)**

 **And Caleb! They were the ones with the most votes. I may write a one or two shot about Will and Christina for coming in a close third, but I'm going to focus on these two for now.**

 **Tris and Al's sequel is called Of Love and Happiness and Caleb's story is called Green and Blue Makes...**

 **The first chapter of each has been posted!**

 **Thank you guys so much again, it's been great sharing this story with you and I hope you like the others.** **(I know you'll love the Alis one!)**

 **Much love,**

 **Allison**


	22. Updates!

Hi! I know this story ended a while ago, but I can't believe I didn't think of this before! I am currently writing Al's POV. I creatively (sarcasm) decided to call it Brown and Blue-Al's POV. Just thought I'd mention if anyone is interested!

I would like to thank you all, again, for your support of this story. It really does mean a lot to me!


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